


Of the Stolen

by YourCompleteDemise



Category: Legend of Spyro, Spyro, Spyro the Dragon (Video Games)
Genre: Adventure, Cool dragon relationships, Dead People, Explosions, Friendship, Lore - Freeform, Multi, thieves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2019-09-06 21:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 169,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16840429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourCompleteDemise/pseuds/YourCompleteDemise
Summary: Centuries after the days of Spyro, the Dragon Realms have changed. A gang of adolescent bandits lurks in the sewers of Firemore City, led by 'The Red Rodent'—a young dragon called Roland. To them, the next purple dragon, the first seen in five hundred years, is just another thief in the pack. But when an unexpected assassination sets ruinous events into motion, Roland and his band of thieves are thrust into an adventure that may yet pit them against the most powerful creature known to dragonkind.





	1. A Thief's Beginning

**(The authors notes come from FanFiction, so sorry if they seem a little out place here.)**

**Heh, this seems a little weird, doesn't it? Me writing a story again, one that I absolutely loathed, even. And yes, yet another new project... Well, all will be explained at the end of this chapter. No, I'm not insane. I think. I hope you enjoy the first chapter anyhow.**

* * *

A Thief's Beginning

Amber glinted upon the stone streets of Firemore, the setting sun tempting the night to swallow the city. The street lamps, however, flickered on at that moment, warding away the darkness encroaching. Technology, truly a marvel. What a thing it could do with five hundred years. Burning spirit gems, light and electricity coursed around every block.

While most paid little attention to the awakening of the lights, one red dragon noted the time. Underneath the daylight, hidden from view, when he wasn't busy, he generally weaved his claw around a page, inky vial by his flank, writing whatever came to mind. Settings, characters of his own creation. An aspiring author.

There was more to it than that, however. The second phase of his day, nightfall. The red dragon exhaled. Nearly caught so many times, and had been once or twice. Thrown into a cell, idly wasting away the days by himself. They could never keep him for long, though...

The guards were serious about keeping this city lawful. And, well, he could admit they did a good job. They tried to place him inside an orphanage and offer him schooling once or twice, but he ran far from the rickety old hag and the freakish children there. They'd lost hope in him long ago, but they knew it was against the laws of the Dragon Realms to banish a young dragon such as he.

Plenty tried to keep well away from him. They knew who he was. The whole city knew. The Red Rodent, they'd call him, a popular name amongst the denizens of the city.

It didn't matter much. As despised as he was for his _profession,_ nobody ever seemed to notice red claws about to descend upon their hinds. Every reaction was priceless. Even if nine times out of ten he was caught in the act and almost captured once more, that alone was worth it. And so were the riches. When he saw the dungeons the first time, he'd expected them to be inescapable, but it turned out it was high time they received a renovation.

He hadn't been captured for a long time now. He was proud of that. Sometimes, though, it just felt like it was too easy.

Hours in to the night, the red dragon stalked the streets. Watchful eyes fell to bleak shadows many a time. He sniffed the air, as though he were a predator.

Then, his prayers were answered. A dragon of around the same height as he wandered past, eyes startled by something. Like an anxious sheep, the green dragoness seemed. Her eyes almost caught his own gaze, but he was quick to back into the shadows. The girl seemed familiar, but he couldn't place a claw on it. Perhaps another he'd stolen from before. Despite the lighting, Firemore was a dim city.

Beneath street lights she roamed, shadows dancing along her body, but the red dragon's only focus was on the purse slapping her side, jingling. Her appearance would only matter when she realised she'd had her copper stolen.

As soon as she turned, the red dragon scampered along the streets, paws as quiet as the heart beating in his chest. He caught up to her as she was about to turn down an alleyway.

He felt pity for her, knowing not what he was about to do. He jumped to the roof of a building, golden eyes trailing her, until she stopped. Then, paws outstretched, he leaped from the rooftops, a shadowed blur amongst the midnight.

The dragoness didn't see him. He grinned a devious smirk as he descended upon her.

And then, without warning, the dragoness shifted to the right. He didn't notice in time. Stomach-first, he landed on the pebbled pathways.

He thought he heard a snicker beside him, but he was far too focused on his loss of breath. He quickly jumped up to make a break for it, vision washed in colours. He felt the familiar stone of the buildings against his face and once more toppled over, his mind swirling.

"You oughta step up your game, Roland."

He knew the voice. Familiar, and surprisingly playful. She sounded blissfully unaware of pain rocketing through his form. As his mind came to, he made out the face of a young dragoness he did happen to know. He spoke, voice hoarse.

"M-Myrtle?"

"No, the fuckin' Ancestors. Who _else_ , Roland? And why are you playing games with me all of a sudden?"

Her voice dripped with playful sarcasm. There was no mistaking it then. It definitely was Myrtle. How had he not made out her features before, especially with that distinctive scar stretching across her eyes? He decided to blame it on the poor lighting, but even that seemed far-fetched. Was his vision failing him? He was only fifteen!

"I'm– Ouch." Roland gritted his teeth. "I feel like I... I just broke every bone in my body."

Myrtle's green eyes narrowed in scrutiny. Realisation dawned on her face. "Oh... shit, you're bleeding. You didn't actually slam into the ground just now, did you? I thought you would've tried to stop yourself."

"I was a bit reckless, I guess... Ouch." A narrow smile spread across his face; it disappeared a moment later as he winced.

"You are the stupidest dragon I've ever met, mistakin' me for some _random_ dragoness." She rolled her eyes, head shaking. "But hey, we love you all the same." She held out her paw and he took it. "Let's get you back and cleaned up."

* * *

"Bloody hell, Roland... I didn't think you were _that_ dumb."

Roland nodded. "Yeah, I've already been told I'm stupid several times by Myrtle, Seth."

The burly brown dragon in front of him creased his brow; Myrtle looked as though she was trying not to laugh, sitting in the corner of the little stone room everyone had worked together to build beneath Firemore's waterways. Sure, the air smelt of sewage – and so did they all – but Roland loved their base of operations and his little family.

"Sure, you might've done some stupid things before, but this takes the cake."

Seth, two years older than he, laughed over the story, but his face was every bit serious now. He jabbed Roland in his bandaged gut a few times, to which Roland cringed. Sending a message, clearly. "Next time, don't almost kill yourself. You could've easily broken a few bones slamming into the concrete like that, and our stock of spirit gems hasn't been very high, because of that thief."

"I'll try," he said, rubbing his grazed stomach, giggling. "But I can't guarantee anything."

Seth exhaled. "Whatever. Before you go to bed, could you pay that new blue girl a visit? She's been real shy and you're probably the friendliest dragon we have.

"What about me?" Myrtle asked, grin unwavering. "I'm friendly too."

"Yeah, but you'd probably exhaust her with your incessant babbling. You're annoying sometimes, Myrtle."

"You definitely prefer Roland over me, don't y-"

"Shut up." Seth turned his attention to the red dragon. "Anyway, go and see her, Roland. I saw her in Pipe C when I was coming back. Maybe she's still around."

Roland nodded, turning away. "Yeah, I'm on it." With a flick of his tail, he shut the door behind him.

Until a few years ago, he'd found the pipelines tedious to navigate, but time had passed and he enjoyed roaming the lonely, sprawling tubes constructed by the moles. The stench he was used to by now – once it felt as though his nostrils were deteriorating, but, in an odd sense, it had become homely. Crossing the makeshift bridges they'd hastily put together, he fancied peering into the murky waters staring back at him. He often spoke to the others on the way, but they were slumbering elsewhere, and so he had himself to focus on.

He studied himself once more, stepping onto a board lying across the gap. His red and grey scales remained flecked with a deeper scarlet of his own, but it blended in enough for him to not mind. They were chipped and damaged, unpolished and neglected, but... he did prefer it that way. It gave him that "rough" sort of look, he felt, made him seem tougher than he really was. Unfortunately, his unnaturally scrawny frame didn't do the look he wished for any justice. Sometimes, when he hadn't eaten for just a few days, he could see a rib teetering on the edge of being visible through his scales.

He was prideful of his horns, however; four beams of lustrous gold that curled back ever so slightly. A number of spines of the same luxurious shade ran along his back to the tip of his tail, a wicked blade – or it would've been if he'd sharpened it. The only dragon amongst the vast pipelines who did sharpen it was that new girl, the blue dragoness. A sharp tail blade was more of a fashion statement than anything. Most here didn't care for looks, but she liked hers.

Well, he couldn't really blame her. She was _kinda_ pretty...

He stopped in his tracks, turning towards the pipe labelled 'C', the crude letter gouged into the steel via heated claw. Not his own doing. That was another dragon's work, his best friend's. His appearance could fool others into thinking he was a fire dragon, but he wasn't sure what he was. Fifteen years old, and he still hadn't discovered it. His element was unknown to him.

He wished he could know. The others teased him for it. It'd been hurtful once, but he'd since grown accustomed to the unoriginal and generic insults they hurled his way. At least most only joked about it.

He spotted the blue dragoness just ahead; her tail jutted out of a small incline she'd hidden herself inside. Roland lifted a brow and padded over.

She was fiddling with something inside. He wondered what was so important she had to keep it hidden away.

"Hey there," he said in the friendliest tone he could muster – which also happened to be loud. She jumped like she'd been bitten and whatever she held in her paws went careening through the air into the sewer water behind them.

She looked back, mouth agape, running towards the edge of the pathway, azure eyes scanning the liquid. "Oh, crap! Crap, crap, _crap..."_

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry." He ran towards where he last saw it flying. Beneath the muddy liquid, however, he couldn't spot whatever it had been. "I didn't mean to–"

"You have _no idea_ what you just lost in there!" the dragoness yelled, maw dripping with poison. "Who the hell just walks up behind people and yells–"

"U-um, gimme a sec," he said, intervening before she decked him one. "Lemme get it."

As he said he would, he dove beneath the waves of sewage water, not giving it any thought. Whatever the hell the residents of Firemore ate stung his eyes and nostrils, but underneath the bleary waters was what she'd been holding. He grasped the glimmering piece between his claws. A golden ring, and fixed to a small socket was a sapphire that shimmered even beneath these waters.

Roland clambered out of the waterways, holding the ring above his head. The blue dragoness looked thankful, but still she seemed peeved off. That, and she was astonished he'd simply dive into sewage.

"Sorry about that..." The red dragon held it out for her, and her aggressive paws snatched it back. "I... d-did say I was sorry."

"And if you are, you won't forget to be fucking careful next time!" she added. Roland attempted to remain stoic, but he backed off as she glared at him, her expression disapproving. His features drooped of their own accord. It didn't help that she looked far stronger than he.

"Just don't be so damn sudden..."

"Yeah, I... understand." He couldn't quite find his voice. Two imbecilic things he'd done today, and it'd only been mere hours after midnight. How many more things would he get wrong...?

"...N-Now you're making me feel bad." A thin smile spread across her face. "I'm kinda surprised you dove into... you know, crap, to get it back, but thanks, I guess."

"You're welcome. I'll just... leave you alone now. Sorry..." He turned to pad away, but the girl's tone spoke otherwise.

"...N-no, stay." Her eyes were fixed on his. Roland cocked his head leftward. "I-I know it was an accident. I'm sorry for yelling. The ring... It just means a lot to me. What did you want?"

He sat on his haunches, legs exhausted. At least she'd calmed, and quickly too. "I was just saying hi. Seth wanted me to greet you properly. I mean, we don't even know your name yet. After Leurona brought you in, you sort of just hopped off elsewhere. But that's okay. I was pretty shy when I started meeting people here."

"I'm sorry. I... haven't really gotten around to introducing myself yet." Her voice shook ever so slightly. Enraged one moment, then back to her usual shy self. The golden ring must've been important to her. "My name's Ashlyn."

"Roland." He held out his paw. Ashlyn nearly took it, but screwed up her face and drew hers away.

"Um, I-I hope you don't mind, Roland..."

"O-oh, yeah, certainly not," he laughed. "I need to have a bath that isn't, you know, in the sewer waters."

Ashlyn noted the stench permeating his body then and there, putting a paw over her nostrils. She grinned, however. "Yeah, you kind of reek..."

"Well, you better get used to it. Those white horns won't shine forever if you're down here, Ashlyn."

"That's a challenge I'm willing to accept," she said, a spark of confidence in her voice. She quickly lost it though. "We'll, uh... see."

Roland grinned, then turned his eyes to the ceiling. "Um... So, how's the weather?"

"You... you aren't very good at sparking a conversation..."

"Well, not when I feel like crap!" He chuckled. "I've already jumped off a building today... And now my bandages are sopping. And now my cuts are probably going to get infected. Woo, this day keeps getting worse!"

It was Ashlyn's turn to cock her head. "How did you manage that?"

"Eh, long story short, I miscalculated a jump and mistook a friend for a potential target, and then she moved and I winded myself on the concrete."

Unlike Myrtle after helping him up, Ashlyn's face showed genuine concern. "Does it still hurt? And... what do you mean target?"

"Nah, only stinging." He patted his stomach to relieve her concerns, but the motion only made him flinch. "And we're thieves, if you didn't know. We steal to get around, but never too much."

"Oh... okay. Not as bad as..." she muttered the rest of her words.

"Not as bad as what?"

"N-nothing, don't worry." She got to her feet and made for her little incline again. "Anyway, I'll see you around, Roland. Thanks for saying hi. I do appreciate it. I probably would've been too scared to say hi myself." She snickered.

"You're welcome. You don't sound _that_ shy, but try not to be. We're all nice around here."

"W-well, you should be more _careful,_ " she jested. "I'll... see you around? I've got some ring polishing to do."

"Of course, if you intend on staying around." He patted her back with his wing. "See ya later."

And then she walked off. She seemed nice. Roland delved into his mind to figure out what her last, strangely foreboding words were, trying to read the motion of her muzzle, but couldn't find the answers he wished for. He was certain she'd open up sooner or later and give up her timidness. But other than that – and the incident with her ring – he felt their interaction had gone pretty well. He'd tell Seth, but he was too tired for it.

After diving into the seas for a quick wash to get any loose sewage off of his body, he made his way to his room, a smaller room connected to the others. Unlike many of the people here, he had his own bed – stole it himself, of course (how he carried a bed was a story for a different day) –, a chest of drawers, and a little golden lamp. Most rooms were plain, except for the occasional pillow or basket strewn about. He took to decorating it though. What he scribbled down in the mornings he pasted above his bedhead so he could read and criticise his work as he entered.

The lamp upon the drawers flickered; he'd forgotten to blow it out, and its oil had run dry. Most had electric ones nowadays, but he liked the antique. He'd have to thieve more oil later. Laying beside the firelight, jotting down stories... Enticing as it was, his eyes could barely keep open at this rate.

He grabbed the tip of his velvet sheet and climbed inside. He lay relaxing for a moment before exhaustion pulled him from reality.

* * *

"Hey. Hey, Roly. Wake up."

Groggily, the red dragon opened his eyes. "Mmmm... What?"

"You need to check this out. It's really weird."

Roland looked to his set of drawers, checking the golden pocket watch ticking away atop it. Squinting, he realised it was four in the morning.

"Drevon, what are you doing up at this time?"

Drevon's features were difficult to make out, but Roland could spot the obvious smile cracking his face. "I couldn't sleep. I had a weird dream, so I went outside, and low and behold there's this _thing_ flying through the sky. I dunno what it is, and I don't think it's a dragon."

Curiosity piqued, Roland raised a brow. "Are you sure you aren't just seeing things? I mean, you have been saying you've had weird hallucinations. You've been getting me to look at things a lot lately."

"No, I'm serious," the dragon said. "Those usually go away after a while – even I thought I was just seeing things again, but there's actually something really weird out there. Quick, it might've already gone away!"

Drevon raced out of his room, skidding and scampering down the corridors. Roland, meanwhile, exhaled and climbed out of bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He didn't know how one dragon could be so energetic.

He approached the balcony beyond Pipe A, the exit and entrance to their base in Firemore's waterways, and one such exit – if a little unrealistic – to the city. Swallowed by the gloom, he could barely make out Drevon's form, but his violet eyes shined despite the darkness. The stars and the celestial moons painted the sky in a palette of reds and greens that transfixed the pair. Often if Roland couldn't sleep he'd gaze upon them, studying the patterns they weaved across the sky's canvas. It was a place of peace for him.

"You see that thing up there?"

Roland leaned closer to the dragon beside him. The moons remained as mesmerising as ever; there was nothing out of the ordinary. "No, I don't... Are you _sure_ you're not–"

"No, bud, I'm not. Look closer. It's right there, in the centre of the red moon."

Roland turned to the larger of the twin moons. He narrowed his eyes. It was a beautiful thing, an orb of velvety red studying the world below it. That was normal, but Roland did happen to see what in particular Drevon was speaking of.

Something distant, flying in aimless circles. Its wings were large, but that was about all he could see. He assumed it was a dragon. However, no dragon would ever fly so high, especially at this time...

"See it now?"

"You actually aren't crazy for once, Drevon." He grinned. Drevon snickered in response. "There is something up there. Probably just some loony, though. Why he's up so high is weird."

"Yeah, I know, right?" Drevon pointed to the thing's oddly shaped wings. As Roland scrutinised the figure more, he realised the thing didn't have paws like a dragon either, and instead simple claws attached to its wings. It was like a wyvern in that sense, but they hadn't been around for years. "I don't think it's a dragon, though. What do you think it is?"

Roland didn't know much about animals, but even he knew this creature's size and proportions were off. He couldn't place a claw on it. "If it's not some weirdo dragon, I have no clue."

There came a screech, faint but clearly audible. He felt Drevon shiver next to him, as though in fear. "U-Um, yeah, I don't think that's a dragon, Roly."

"No..." A droplet landed on the tip of Roland's snout. He pawed it away, noting the change in weather. "Seems like it's gonna start raining. We should head back in... and you should go to bed."

A flash of lightning, a crackling boom, filled the air. Drevon's purple scales blinked under the light. Roland had heard stories of purple dragons and definitely believed them. Heroic, powerful saviours born of prophecy. But, although Drevon had the elements of a purple dragon – fire, earth, ice and lightning – he was anything but heroic and powerful. He was kind and humble, and he enjoyed life without having to worry over if he was some super special dragon. While usually people would remember the face the of a purple dragon, and loathe them, on account of what happened centuries ago, nobody seemed to remember Drevon, despite the festival held in Firemore. It was really only the Guardians that paid him any mind, though they didn't know where he was. People forgot about Drevon and the stories of purple dragons committing heinous acts of evil.

Roland remained confused over his appearance. The purple dragons were destined for greatness, but Drevon seemed as normal as any other resident of Firemore, apart from the shimmering purple scales. Drevon had been brought in, lost on the streets, and ever since had lived peacefully with the rest of them. At least, that was what he told Roland. Roland had been too young to know about the birth of the purple dragon at the time. Only a single year old, back when he lived with his parents.

Roland thought it was pretty nifty they lived with a purple dragon, though. Who would've thought such a powerful dragon would come to their humble guild of thieves?

"Yeah, let's go." Drevon, surprisingly, paced back inside. Roland looked to the red moon once more, but the figure had vanished. He frowned before following him through.

Roland caught up with the purple dragon, and after sharing farewells for the night, he clambered into his bed again, cosy beneath the covers. Whatever the creature had been kept him up for a good few minutes

Abnormal wings, and a shriek that pierced the heavens. It affected Drevon, surely, by the way he shivered. Such a strange little thing soaring amongst the stars, as though peering down upon the landscape. The thought of a freakish creature unknown to him made him uneasy.

"...Eh, maybe some huge bird in the sky isn't _too_ much to worry about."

* * *

**Did I shock anyone with the surprise DR rewrite? Yes? No? Oh well, I hope you enjoyed this first chapter of _Of the Stolen._**

**Anyway hey there. Now, if you're worried about me at all, you _may_ be thinking, "Demi, why the hell do you have so many unfinished fics? And now you're writing ANOTHER ONE? Also a REWRITE of DRAGON'S RUIN? WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?" Short answer, I'm lazy and project-hop all the time, and after starting yet another fic I'm going to fix that by actually sitting down and planning out my stories, one by one. Don't worry, none of the other fics are just going to fade away like they never happened. They will all be written in due time. Long story short, I am unhappy with what I have done and I'm going to stop project-hopping.**

**Long answer. Honestly, I haven't been very happy with what I've been doing. I've been exceptionally lazy, haven't put any thought into what I've been doing at all, and have dug myself a pit of unfinished fics. Along with feeling extremely uninspired about my writing, I just haven't been doing much related to it. And, you know, this whole situation is kind of ironic, considering this is what I want to use to kickstart my passion again and that the original Dragon's Ruin was a fic I ended up being very unhappy with and that I lost a lot of inspiration over.**

**At the same time as being completely uninspired and lazy over my writing, I've taken my first steps into game design, something I'm very passionate about, and have been working on a project for the past two or three months that continues to grow to this day. It's made me completely forget I even had fics to write, that's how much I enjoy it.**

**Other than that, I have just been lazy in general, and I get tired a lot because I get, like, two hours of sleep at night because I'm an idiot and I go to bed at five o'clock in the morning. I even sort of forgot I even could write decentish stories for a while.**

**After a while, I did begin to think about my writing again and I've been wondering what I want to do with it. And then I sat down and got lazy again. And then I thought about this. Dragon's Ruin was always a story that I wanted to rewrite and make _way_ better than the original; as much as I hated the writing and the plot points I'd created, I _did_ like the characters I'd produced and I spent many a night thinking about them. I always liked to think about what Roland and Ashlyn would do next, how their relationship would develop, all that jazz.**

**So I came to the conclusion that I wanted to write this again, and after a few weeks of struggling to get ANYTHING on the page, I decided to actually start properly planning out a story. I've got an outline that continues to expand right now, and it is really helping me right now, not only to solve plot issues and move the story along smoothly, but also for inspiration. Thinking about these characters again, I can't help but feel very inspired because I think they're the best cast of characters I have made. I'm sure people don't care about them as much as I do (and if you do that's funny because DR sucked fite me) but I hope I can create a lovable cast this time around with some proper planning.**

**And here I am now. I'm still alive and well, I guess. Maybe a little peeved off at myself, but that can be fixed.**

**As for other news, I'm removing a few of the jokefics from my profile too. Honestly, I think they're cringy, and no I don't want to put them inside a google drive for everyone to look at. They were just a result of me being bored and slamming my head into the keyboard, and aren't really worth anything to me. If you still want to read them before they disappear forever, I'm going to leave them up for another two weeks, but after that no more. Only the Xiranth fic and the one that shan't be named are going to stay up, but I have questions whether I should leave COX up because a long way down the track I do plan on making a legitimate Xiranth canon story. And no, I definitely don't plan on letting my other fics fade away forever. After this, they will be properly written and planned.**

**Meh. Anyway, again, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this rewrite. I won't project-hop anymore and I'll try my best to stop being a lazy writer. If I do project-hop again, you can murder me.**

**And sorry for the sloppy pile of words here. I felt I just needed to get this out there and I wrote this without, like, any planning at all, just writing what came to mind. If you have any questions that I haven't answered, simply ask.**

**And if you didn't read the original DR, or don't care about me, why are you reading this? :P**

**Thanks, guys, and I hope you enjoy what's to come in _Of the Stolen._ Don't expect the same story as before if you read DR; much of what you'll find here has been changed, but you can at least expect... Roland, I guess. :P**


	2. Dread from Above

Dread from Above

"You took it first!"

"Well, I own it!"

"Own it? You don't own nothin'!"

Roland groaned, shoving his face into the torn pillows of his bed. The two voices beyond his room had been at it for several minutes now; he was hoping the argument between the young pair would cease quickly. He should've known better than to think two children would suddenly stop arguing over something as infantile as a mere cheetah plush.

He blinked several times, exhaustion like lead upon his eyes. He brushed the greasy frills back atop his skull and shambled away from bed. After this morning's last drowse, he was hoping he could at least get some sleep, but the fatigue posing upon his shoulders last night lingered still.

Outside, the pair of dragons squabbled over the little thing. Carolin, the dragoness to the left, held the puppet between her paws protectively. Weird of her to be arguing over something. The two didn't notice him walk into their little spat.

"Could you two can it?" he asked as politely as his hoarse voice would allow him. The green dragoness, Carolin, looked at him and smiled apologetically. The other fire dragon, however, tried to snatch the puppet out of her paws after Roland's words, and the two continued to bicker.

"Holy shit, kids, would you both _settle down_?" His voice more forceful, the other dragon heard him this time.

"S-sorry, Rolan'," the orange dragon said, tone sickly sweet. He recognised the kid as Kage. "But she's trying to steal Mr. Fluffles!"

" _Steal_ it?" Carolin was clearly bewildered. "I own it! How can I steal something I own?"

"You don't own it!"

"Yes, I do!"

"Have you kids ever heard of the saying 'honour among thieves?" Roland asked, quietly laughing despite his irritation. The two both shook their heads. "It means we _don't steal from each other._ Why don't you both, I dunno, share it instead?"

"But it _is_ mine and..." Carolin trailed off.

"Well, honestly, it's not." He gave her a crooked grin. Carolin pouted over his jest.

"SEE? _"_ Realisation dawned on the other kid's face, and Roland knew his joke had come at the expense of worsening the argument. "It _isn't_ yours!"

"Oh, Ancestors..." he cursed.

"Having trouble with the kids, bud?"

Roland locked eyes with the purple dragon behind him, goofy grin stretched across his muzzle. Roland couldn't help but smile. "No, of _course_ not..."

The two behind him continued to argue; Roland couldn't concentrate on the babyish reasoning they gave. "Why don't you let me deal with 'em?" Drevon whispered. "You can go back to bed if you want, Roly."

"Ugh. I'm already up, what's the point?" Roland rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "I've got a few things I want to do today, might as well get them done early. And I would appreciate you doing this, but Carolin's your sister. You'd be a bit biased."

"No, I'm all for being fair."

"Yeah, like how you were _fair_ in that paw wrestle yesterday."

"Shut up, I'm totally fair." Drevon grinned. He moved past the red dragon without waiting for his word and looked down upon the kids. Carolin looked to her older brother with surprise; because he'd gotten up early, no doubt. Everyone around here, despite resorting to thievery, remained laid back. They had a more than enough to survive, and nobody knew they were here. Sometimes, it didn't even seem like the guards were trying to search for them, as if they were laid-back as well. He always thought they did a good job, though.

Roland left Drevon to deal with the pointless bickering, too weary to care any longer. He guessed 'resorting to thievery' was kind of the wrong phrase. Many probably could be doing other things: receiving an education at the orphanage, heading on to a career later in life that would earn them some copper. But no, most here simply enjoyed the life of stealing. He and Seth had started their underground network of thieves here together, then Myrtle came along one day (ironically because she'd been stolen from by him), and then their 'guild of thieves' kind of just _grew_.

Like a stream, they came one by one. A lot of them looked up to this kid they'd heard being called the Red Rodent. He guessed they loathed the old hag in the orphanage as much as he did.

He remembered the names of around twenty of those kids living inside the waterways and on the streets, coming back to share their spoils, but he knew there were a few more than that, those few that didn't speak and kept strictly to themselves. He didn't mind their presence, though. The more the merrier, he always said to Seth, who didn't like the quiet types. And, well, the more to add to their collection of trinkets, food, and curiosities. As shocking as it may have seemed, an amount of spirit gems had been stolen from them. There had been a bit of a betrayal earlier in the week. Seth was intent on figuring out who it was. Thankfully, it hadn't been too much, but it was a bit of a scare.

Roland stepped across the platform again, studying his shadow against the cylindrical wall in the lamplight. It moved like a beast shambling beside him. He stopped and stood on two feet for a moment, like the cheetahs and moles, and quietly snickered at his abnormally long neck curling around the pipe. "And I thought the others were childish," he muttered after.

He'd thought the electricity coursing around the sewers was weird when he first came down here. Later, he'd realised they were for maintenance work – some of his favourite moments were when the adults came for an examination of the waterways; hiding amongst the pipelines and watching them choke up at the smell was always hilarious, in spite of the growing number of times he'd seen it.

He turned the corner into pipe B, the dirtiest and smelliest of all the pipes; it was known for its 'blockages' after all, and that was where the 'B' came from. He wasn't surprised to see Myrtle huddled around a crude map of an area they'd drawn upon an oaken stool, houses they wished to raid dotted along its rough surface, but Ashlyn conversing with her about the plans was a change of pace. He hadn't actually expected the timid dragoness to introduce herself so swiftly.

"...like, this one's the cool one. The guy has a collection of frickin' gold– Oh, hey, Roland. Come over here and listen." Myrtle waved at him; he jogged over.

He knelt down. "How's the planning going?"

"Good. Just explaining what we have to Ashlyn." She pointed towards the big red dot on the page; it was only a fraction bigger than the others, but Roland knew the place nonetheless. "I wanna save that one for last. It looks like it's gonna be the most exciting... How's ya tummy, by the way?"

He'd since removed the sopping bandages; they weren't comfortable to sleep in. "Still a little grazed, but I think I'll be fine. Be my cushion next time, will you?"

"Yeah, I'll be the cushion you impale yourself on, sure." She pointed to the curved brown spines upon her back. Roland only smirked. "Anyway, we're not exactly desperate for gold – actually turning it in for copper is troublesome in and of itself, and it's not like we're running low or anything."

"Oh, I know a guy," Ashlyn said, quite surprisingly. People dealing in precious substances were difficult to come by; it wasn't profitable, considering almost nobody managed to come by such things. Earth dragons and moles, with their lust for wealth, mined every known location of precious ore and mineral. Even Roland, a thief no less, hadn't such greed to reap the earth of its now lacking resources.

The mining of copper though was their primary objective, not gold. An ore with two stunning properties – it was malleable and a great conductor of spirit power. They liked it so much that it was fused into the chain-link steel armour the guards of Firemore donned. He'd read that in a book he'd stolen once. The 'copper' the Dragon Realms called their currency was also made of the material.

"You know someone?" Myrtle spoke next. Ashlyn quickly took it back.

"Well... I-I did."

"Oh, don't get my hopes up like that, blue girl." Ashlyn flinched as Myrtle's paw playfully connected with her shoulder. "What, did he die or something?"

"No, he... went away."

"Where to? Is he close?"

"I... I don't know." Ashlyn shrugged. The green dragoness' face soured for a moment, but she was smiling again in a jiffy. "Anyway, when are you guys... _we_ doing this?"

"Eh... Probably soon. We're gonna start with that one _there._ " She pointed to the red dot; barely recognisable, the dot was stashed away in the corner of the map. The most boring of the homes. Roland did enjoy working his way up to the more difficult, tedious missions – if you could call them _missions_ – as time progressed, however. It made the later rewards more satisfying. And, like gold, it wasn't as though they were running desperately low on other supplies. It'd be a nice one to run Ashlyn through what they would do, anyway. Even the thieves of the waterways had rules they needed to follow.

"So you made the decision without me?" He would've told her their first target was the blandest of the homes anyhow. Strange ways, he knew, but he liked them. If he hadn't been here, like all those years ago, his incentives would've varied. "Kinda rude, but..."

"I thought you would agree." Myrtle leaned in, tongue poking through her muzzle slightly. "Not like _you_ to fight me over something, no-breath."

"Ha ha, very original, moss-brains," he countered, drawing his face closer to hers. Myrtle's grin widened.

"Lanky."

"Bird-snout."

"Knuckle-head _."_

"Scar-face _."_

"By Ignitus, you guys." Ashlyn chortled. "I hope I don't have to get used to this. Y-you're like children."

"We _are_ children," the bickerers expressed in unison. "Wow, nice timing. Holy shit..."

Roland and Myrtle couldn't help cracking up. The blue dragoness only shook her head.

"A-anyway," Myrtle said between breaths, picking up her map and stuffing it into the satchel by her flank, "I have some stuff to do, some stuff to clean, some stuff to steal. I'll see you guys later. Nice meetin' ya properly, Ashlyn."

"You too!" She waved, as did he. The dragoness turned to him a moment later, and the two began walking down the pipelines. "You were right about meeting people, Roland. I was planning on just, you know, sitting around by myself, but I guess it'd be nice to have some acquaintances..."

He nudged her gently. "We're all friends here. I have no doubt you'll fit in well."

"Haven't really had the chance to make friends with anyone before," she said. "Thanks, though."

"Well, you can chill out." At his words, the blue dragoness laughed. He wondered why for a moment. "I... Oh, very funny."

"I _am_ an ice dragon. I'd like to think I'm automatically pretty chill," she said. "W-well, unless you throw my ring in the sewers."

"You ever gonna let me live that one down?" he asked.

"You dived into... well, shit, just for me. Of course I'm not, smelly."

"Great." He held his head high, feigning annoyance.

"O-oh, uh... i-if you don't mind, of cou–"

He snickered, beaming. "No, no. It's fine. I deserve it anyway."

"Th-then... prepare to be made fun of, I guess!"

"We'll see, Ash."

Roland led them around the the corner to the exit. Just beneath the pipe's ceiling, he could spot the sun. He'd forgotten about it for a moment, but all the weight of his exhaustion came tumbling down upon him then. He exhaled, stretching his ligaments as though a hound.

"I didn't say it before, but you look really tired."

"Yeah, rough night sleeping. I was woken up by two kids arguing over a toy. But you've got nothing to worry about. I'm fine."

She cocked her head; her concern was almost mother-like. Strange, considering she'd known him since yesterday. "You sure? It's not often you see black rings under a dragon's eyes. Why don't you head back to bed?"

He peered into the waters below him. His form was wavy and difficult to decipher, but she wasn't wrong. The coiling darkness clashed with the red of his scales.

"...No." As inviting as the warm confines of his bed seemed, there were items on his agenda that needed tending to. He gave her the warmest look he could muster. "Don't be concerned. I might be tired, but it's not going to stop me. Besides, I've got some things to do today."

Her face revealed she was displeased with his response, but she nodded despite it. "Well, take it easy, then. I'll see you around?"

"Yeah, definitely." He leaped to the edge of the pipe, where the ground fell into a cliff, the northern Salamander Sea stretching beyond it. "Talk to you later."

Then, beating his wings, he took off. He rejoiced in the rushing of the wind on his scales, inhaling the salty air. Sure, he'd gotten used to the stench within the sewers, but never did he ever want to stay there. He preferred this, just outside the city. He would've loved to always be out here, breeze caressing his scales.

An impossibility. He thought no longer of it, and with his sights on Firemore, approached the Dragon Realms' second greatest city.

* * *

The setting sun didn't leave Roland much time to enjoy his other hobby. He weaved a claw upon the yellowed page within an alleyway, slouching up against a dumpster. He'd smelt worse than the stench that pervaded his nostrils. In fact, it even gave him ideas; he converted that scent to the reeking miasma of a beast clawing through rock to decimate the characters of his own creation. A golden dragoness, and her sidekick, Gerald, were triumphant in the end, however.

He laughed at the joke he weaved into the story after the death of the beast, claw scribbling wildly upon the page as his chest heaved. Then he grumbled, realising he'd ruined all he'd written. Not dissuaded, though, he started again. Some day he'd get this book published, and then he could hoard the rewards and praise of his masterwork.

"You know, if they would actually accept somebody as hated as me..."

He placed the crinkled paper upon his chest before resting his head against the dumpster. He lifted the stolen apple pie beside him and took a nibble. Familiar. In some ways, it was perfect. In others, it sorrowed him ever so slightly.

"This really is the life..."

Getting away from his parents had probably been the best decision he'd ever made.

He felt a twinge of guilt then, but never did it last long. He had been the one that caused all this, but how could he unhappy when life was ideal after doing so? He had friends – no, a family. He had everything he desired. He could do whatever he pleased and _almost_ always get away with it.

But he did miss them still. It rang true. Despite it all, he never could forget about them.

He remembered his father the most. A giant of a dragon, clearly of the earth variety, brown scales from head to toe, horns like a ram's, tail blade smooth and club-like. He'd once been able to mistake the dragon for dirt because of his colour, but his soul had glimmered like diamond. That smile, though faded in his mind over time like a passing breath, remained as inviting, comfortable, joyous as ever. He'd never forget the times they shared. He'd never forget that gravelly tone. His laugh he could remember like it was only yesterday.

At least, that was what he was like, just around him.

His mother was a different story. He could memorise the melancholy sketched across her features, and even that memory was as misty as the ice she once summoned. That was all. She'd always been upset, succumbing to her own thoughts, as though they were murdering her from the inside out, wearing away at her thin body. He'd ran the first time then. He was scared for her. He believed it was he causing her problems, causing her attenuated, drooping figure, like his. There had been days before he'd met Seth, before they'd constructed their little band of thieves, that he'd wanted to go back. But he was sure his mother had been better off without him. All of that had been his fault.

" _They're gone now, Roland. Don't worry about them anymore. Do you want to be happy, or do you want to go back to more of her?"_

They never were and never would be, he'd told Seth. Maybe she'd changed, he'd told Seth, although he scarcely believed it.

One time, he had gone back, off his sorry arse to see them once more, a hope flickering in his chest. The inviting smell of the apple pie baking inside... Enticing, but never did he go inside their old spire again. Seth had approached him then, too.

" _He... hates you, Roland. He doesn't want you anymore. It's... It's not your fault._

He'd heard his father then; faint sobbing. He knew what had happened, what he'd done. His mother, that dissolving soul, evaporated that night.

He didn't leave before he'd seen her, though. He wanted one last look at her. In ways, he wished he hadn't sought after her. It didn't take long before he laid eyes on her through the lighted window, past his father.

She was limp and her eyes were milky. Like a doll, as though she'd never lived in the first place. He couldn't recognise her face anymore. Broken by her element; an icicle as long as her figure impaled the mind once killing her. She'd succumbed to herself.

And he knew he was to blame then and there, that he never should've left. She'd been holding onto him, and then, when he was gone... He never spoke to his father again after all that. Even seen him again. Roland assumed he was just dead.

He rubbed his eyes. He looked at his claw, a droplet resting upon its tip. The tears didn't come most days, thinking of his parents as he did.

He missed them, wanted them back, but they were dead. They were but memories, like embers, glowing until the time came for them to die, and many more to replace them. His hope was lost within the embers. They were nothing more.

"You feeling okay, Roland?"

It wasn't usually Seth that approached him. Seth wasn't one for emotions. Roland could sympathise with the earth dragon, knowing he'd been through something... _similar_ in nature.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking about... ugh."

"You need to let go of them." For such a large, loud dragon, he was surprisingly soft-spoken. Roland had heard his words before, however.

"I-I know, I just can't help it," he said. "It's my fault."

"No, it's hers, and I've always said this," he argued. "It's not your fault she was too selfish and... well, honestly kind of fucked in the head to take care of you. Why don't you listen to me?"

Roland didn't know about any of that. Seth's words were too harsh, but he wouldn't argue. What was the point? He knew there was no convincing himself. He wondered if Seth knew that, too. "Let's just go home. I don't want to talk about this."

"Okay." The brown dragon shrugged and moved off, out of the alleyway. Roland, exhaling, got up.

There came a crack, the splintering of wood, distant yet audible, followed by a dense thud, interrupting his train of thought. Roland jumped in shock, but thought somebody must have just fallen over. Dragons were heavy, after all...

Then, scared like a bird flies, Seth rushed around the corner. He tried to issue a warning, but a screech tore through Roland's ears. Recognisable, from the night before.

Had the creature attacked Firemore?

Seth was on his knees, trembling, fear etched across his face as though he'd seen a sight unholy. Wood was smashed, stone reduced to fragments he saw careening through the air.

Roland wanted to stay back, but his curiosity got the better of him. From behind the corner of the alleyway, through the stalls of the market square, he knew he was seeing the creature he'd seen flittering amongst the night.

Its hulking, hunched body was almost as large as the dragons cowering around the square. An adolescent cheetah hung from its bloodied maw, fangs impaling his small body. It raked at the wood and its victims with the talons on its paws, and soon after, lifted into the skies screaming, beating its wings as the cheetah boy was diced by the two blades inside its mouth. Roland felt caught, like he'd been glued to cobblestone.

It soared across the square as fast as he'd ever seen another creature fly. Even he couldn't outmatch its velocity.

He stood, fear bubbling inside of him, but he found himself not paralysed like the others. Even the dragons, the guards strongest among them, knelt and cowered beneath the savage beast. He couldn't look away, not from the red drenching the ground nor those barely breathing amongst the dead, nor from the monster itself.

Then, its yellow eyes met his gold. He couldn't breathe.

The creature froze, then shrieked once more. Roland snapped out of his bewilderment. He looked back to Seth, who was still recovering from whatever paralysis he'd once been in, before hiding himself again.

He heard the creature descend upon the stone through the screaming of Firemore's denizens. It had full control over whoever it wanted to kill. Roland felt he was next. He tried to stay quiet, but his ragged breaths drew the beast ever nearer. He heard a snort; sniffing at the scent of his blood, he thought.

Talons scraped against stone as the lumbering beast walked towards him. He felt the tears again, threatening to cascade down the bridge of his snout.

He knew he was going to die.

That hadn't set in yet. He only realised it now. This unholy freak of nature was going to be the end of him.

One step closer. It was almost around the corner, before it screamed out once more. Not in use of its unnatural ability to impale its victims mind with fear, but in agony. Dark scarlet flew past him, splattering on the wall of the building beside him. It stuck like paste.

With a guttural roar, the beast made one last move. The cobblestone shook, and the movement stopped, the beast's face landing in front of him, blood oozing down its cheeks. The iron spear piercing its skull was withdrawn, wet with the monster's gore.

Roland stood still, as though frozen in time. The beast's aggressor walked around the corner, a cheetah wearing the armour of Firemore's guard.

"A-are... y-you alright?" the cheetah spoke, distressed. He sounded as though he were in tears. Roland didn't blame him. He was on the verge himself.

But he couldn't speak. He did open his mouth, but he couldn't find the words. Looking back, he saw Seth had left the ground and was flying away, far from whatever hell had been unleashed upon the city here.

And he couldn't blame him. Roland didn't want to be around the monster anymore.

Like Seth, he turned and kicked off forcefully, the guard yelling after him. He didn't hear his words, but he didn't care.

He just wanted to go home.


	3. The Antagonist

The Antagonist

The first face Roland saw was Ashlyn's, staring into the cloudless skies before her. Her eyes met his and he knew she was bewildered. Seth had arrived first, after all.

Roland didn't speak as he landed, uncomfortably shifting past her, lost for words. He could hardly recollect the events in his head. One second, he was behind the wall of a gloomy alleyway, hiding from his encroaching death, the next he was soaring far, far away from the one lone cheetah who'd rescued him, confused, anxious, _fearful_. He'd never seen so much blood before. He didn't remember the faces of any of those slashed down by the monster, just an ocean of scarlet splattering the market square.

"R-Roland, wait up!"

He stopped for a moment, breathing hitched. "Wh-what, Ashlyn?"

"First Seth... now you? What happened back there?" She tilted her head as he turned. He didn't want to worry her. It was only a one-off thing. She'd probably find out later, anyhow.

"It's fine, Ash," he responded, adopting a calmer tone. On the inside, thoughts of the beast plagued him. He shivered. "Our... plans just went bad and now we're here. We were trying to steal something, and–"

"Roland," she intervened, "I might look stupid a lot of the time, but... I-I know you're lying."

He exhaled before beginning to walk on again. Much to his displeasure, Ashlyn trailed behind him. "Seriously, it's nothing."

"Roland, come on. What happened?"

"Ashlyn, just–"

"Would you just tell me!?" she snapped. Roland stopped in his tracks, feeling like he'd leaped out of his own scales. She lowered her voice. "...S-Seth just comes walking past me, doesn't say anything, tears all over his face, and now you won't say anything. Nobody would cry over stealing gone wrong..."

His heart drummed against his rib cage as he thought of the creature. It hadn't felt real at all, like it'd jumped straight out of a book of mythological monsters. Those piercing yellow eyes, those bloodied fangs, that damn _screech_. "I..."

" _I_ what? What did you do, Roland?"

He heard her say that and his will to assume his defence grew. "N-no, I didn't do anything. There was just... There was this huge winged _thing_. I don't know what it was. I don't think anybody knew. But it... killed people, Ashlyn. People fucking died. I've n-never seen so much blood in one place before."

Any fire previously in her eyes dissipated. "Oh... A-are you serious?"

"I didn't want to worry you or anyone else." His head hung as he seated himself on the stone walkway. "It would, like, scream at people and then they'd be overcome with so much fear that it'd paralyse them. I didn't feel it myself, but Seth next to me... I-it was horrifying, anyway."

Ashlyn sat there with him. "Th-that'd explain why he came in crying. You're... You're okay though, right?"

Roland didn't know if he ever would be after that, though he allowed a smile to play on his maw. It wasn't any more than a reassuring smirk, however. "For somebody I only met a little while ago, you seem awfully concerned about me."

"W-well, you looked buggered this morning, and then when you come back home after th-that thing... What do you expect?"

"I understand, Ash." He forced a chuckle. Ashlyn didn't seem to peer through him as if he were a window this time, though. "Anyway, I'm gonna go to bed. I'll probably see you tomorrow."

"You sure you're fine?"

"Yes, Ashlyn, I'll be fine. Don't worry about me." He grinned. "Goodnight."

"Okay," she said. "S-sleep well!"

As he turned the corner, the smile vanished, eyes dropping to the cobble pathway through the metallic pipework. He thought he saw a few of the faces around the pipes nervously glance at him – Kage and another dragoness he knew was nicknamed Trix. Fatigue weighed him down and his mind flared over the atrocity committed within the market square of Firemore. Roland wondered, grimly, if the guard that'd rescued him had been in tears over the cheetah slaughtered by the monster. He knew what it was like to lose family, but at least in some ways he'd seen the blizzard before it had engulfed his mother – not that he could do anything about it after running away. To lose them so suddenly, though, somebody as young as that boy, to an _animal_... He didn't know if there could be a worse feeling than losing those cherished forever to something seemingly so insignificant.

Maybe being raked at with that creature's claws, or diced by its fangs as sharp as knives.

Stepping inside his room, he peered at the pocket watch by his bedside table. It wasn't even late: still eight hours left on the clock before the sun officially completed its cycle and the twin celestial moons rose. He didn't care, however. Mind awash with the beast, his body shut down for the night.

* * *

A bang on the metal outside startled him from his deep, dreamless slumber. He was wide awake, exhaustion afflicting him no more. Intrigue twinkled in his eyes. When he remembered Drevon slept close to his quarters, however, his curiosity was replaced by an irked grumble. The purple dragon was always up early mucking about in his room. One such morning he'd found him playing chase with his sister, Carolin. Sure, the room was spacious enough for a game or two, but with the way he ran like a fire through stubble, he was bound to crash into the walls at some point. Thankfully, dragon skulls were built for charging and he was never injured.

Roland tossed in bed, humming irritably. How could one dragon be so energetic? He wondered if the Ancestors regretted their decision to give one such as Drevon the energy he clearly didn't need. With the noise he made, he probably disturbed even them. And then, once it was all wasted on his shenanigans, he'd sleep like a rock for ten hours.

The smack on the wall came again, reverberating across his room. And then once more, only seconds after. This time, Roland sat up, frowning. Normally Drevon would only make one mistake before slinking off to bed, guilty.

"What are you doing in there...?" Roland mumbled to himself, one more knock at the steel confusing him further. Examining the hands on his pocket watch, he realised it was only three-thirty. "I thought it was later than that. Drevon's usually asleep at this time..."

As he crawled out of his sheets, a voice broke through the dense walls, furious. He leaned against the wall beside him; however, it faded as though it were never there. Concern for his friend replaced his irritation.

He quietly scampered down the sewer lines and stopped in front of Drevon's door. He remembered building this little room when it was just the four of them: himself, Seth, Myrtle, and Drevon. All the rooms were made of the stone Seth and occasionally Myrtle could summon on a whim, and the metallic walls already happened to be there. He silently thanked the brown dragon again for his kindness to build such things. Roland had always wondered where he'd learnt to construct them, whether his skill was innate or not.

His musings were halted by the slam on the iron again. Nobody else listened to it, slumbering. He couldn't blame them when they lived further from Drevon's room than he.

He lowered himself to the position of the keyhole. He was uncomfortable with peeping through the keyhole to examine the antics Drevon got up to. He didn't exactly want to see the unholy things he got up to ever again, but it couldn't be helped.

Drevon's room was decorated, unlike many of them, with all sorts of furniture they'd dragged back together. He didn't have a bed, like Roland, but a basket brimming with colourful pillows, which he always said he preferred because he rolled in his sleep. They lay strewn about the room which perplexed him, as though Drevon had dragged himself out of bed.

Then he heard the voice from earlier. The fact it belonged to Seth scared him. Rules were that nobody entered a room unless invited inside – not even Roland, their sort-of leader. The rage in Seth's voice suggested he'd invited himself in, though.

He looked around the room, but it took shifting his head and vision to truly grasp the display in front of him. Cuffs fashioned out of the stone floor shackled the purple dragon to the wall, brown paws wrapped around his neck. Drevon wheezed, breath restrained by Seth's clawed grip. If it had been any tighter, he'd probably suffocate.

"You're useless, Drevon." Roland felt his own breath catch in his throat as Seth spoke. "You're the purple dragon and you're absolutely useless. You don't even want to help anyone; instead, you just _sit there_ , complaining about the sewers! If you hate us all so much, why don't you just leave?!"

Seth was angry about the jokes made about the sewers' stench? Drevon appeared to utter a word, but the earth dragon didn't give him a chance, nor did he seem to hear.

"Do you even care, Drevon?"

Drevon couldn't force the words through his throat. He spluttered weakly, painfully.

"I asked you a question, Drevon. Do you even _care_!?" Seth pulled the purple dragon back for a second, only to slam his body into the metal. An audible crunch echoed through the room. One of the many dark spines descending Drevon's back fell to the ground, hollow against the stone. The silence and brutality inflicted upon him disturbed Roland. This torture over a joke?

"Y-ye... Ye–"

"You're a liar," Seth snarled, growing closer to his face. "You're nothing but a liar! You don't care. Not about Roland, not about Myrtle... Not about _me_. I built _everything_ for you. I created what you live for! I made sure you were safe and happy, and you do _nothing_ to show for it! You just sit there, scaring the shit out of everyone with your purple dragon magic."

Roland could barely watch, but he kept his eye glued to the keyhole. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Why don't you just leave? You're nothing, Drevon. That's all you are." Seth's paw glowed a startling green. " _Nothing_!"

The crack that echoed across Drevon's room made Roland jump. Before he could blink, a pillar of earth jolted through the ground, striking the purple dragon's stomach. The cuffs crumbled upon impact, Drevon left to fall to the ground. He clasped his battered stomach, gasping for air.

"Don't tell anyone about this." Seth grasped the purple dragon's horn and pulled his head up to meet his. A complete mockery of a dragon Drevon had been made out to be in that very second. Roland held back the fury to barge in and deck the brown dragon one. He'd only end up the same as Drevon.

Frankly, he was terrified of him now.

"If you do..." The brown dragon paused. He wrenched at Drevon's horn. "I'll show you what dying feels like. I'll rip out those fucking horns of yours."

Then Seth shoved his face into the stone and stormed away from him. He was coming to the door.

Roland lifted his head away and scampered far into the gloom of one of the many pipes. The door swung open and Seth slammed it for good measure. If he was trying to be quiet, he hadn't done a good job. Maybe he knew nobody would hear him.

The red dragon could barely fathom what he'd witnessed. He knew Seth had always been somewhat aggressive to those he didn't like, but a full-on beating wasn't him. Seth turned down the corridors moments later, vanishing with any trust Roland had once had for him.

When the silence permeated Firemore's sewers once more, Roland rushed back. The door groaned open, weak from Seth's punishment. Drevon spluttered, red fluid leaking from his nostrils dripping onto the ground.

As he walked inside, Drevon looked up, tears dancing in his eyes. As he realised who it was, he looked more embarrassed than in overwhelming pain. "Oh, h-hey..." His words were barely audible through his wheezing. He spluttered breathlessly. "...R-Roly."

"Don't talk to me, Drevon." Roland was by his side immediately, offering him his paw. "Focus on your stomach."

On his feet again, Drevon did as he was told. He leaned against the wall where he'd been shackled for support.

"I don't have any spirit gems with me and I'm afraid to leave you alone," Roland stated. The seriousness in his voice caught Drevon off-guard. "You're gonna have to make do."

"I-it's... fine," he wheezed. "Th-th..."

"Don't talk."

It took a good while before Drevon's breathless gasps retreated and the air returned. He aggressively rubbed at the tears staining his face. He clearly hated himself for it, to be sobbing in front of his best friend. In no way could Roland could blame him for it, though.

"I... I shouldn't be here. He's right." Drevon's eyes met the floor. His words startled the red dragon. "I should just leave and–"

"No, Drevon, don't think that," Roland spoke back. "I've never seen him like that. That's not him at all... Has he done anything like this before? And more importantly, are you okay now?"

Drevon sniffed, wiping the blood from his snout. He stared at it for a strangely long time, like he'd never seen such a thing. "I-it still stings down there... And he's come in here before, but h-he... he never hurts me. He usually just yells at me..."

"Why didn't you defend yourself?" Roland asked, draping a wing over Drevon's shoulders. He flinched momentarily, but didn't seem to mind after a few seconds. Drevon froze at the question, whimpering. "You're the _purple dragon_. I've seen you fight, and..." Roland adopted a slight grin. "And you're a force to be reckoned with. You could've taken him down with that ice of yours, or–"

"H-he..." He didn't seem like he could finish his sentence. Another loose tear rolled down his cheek.

"He what?"

"He... scares me..." Being the strong, exuberant dragon he was, the shame in Drevon's voice was indescribable. Roland couldn't blame him for being terrified; he'd felt the same simply watching the earth dragon's display. "He tells me to leave, tells me I'm worthless, threatens my sister. He tells me he actually w-wants to kill me, Roland. And just now he said–"

"I heard what he said." Roland huffed. Seth's words were unreasonable. He remembered the spine he'd shattered and suppressed the anger in his tone. At least dragons couldn't feel their spines and horn and tail blades, and they grew back quickly enough if destroyed. But getting one yanked straight from the body had to be a different story. "To be honest, I don't think even he'd have the guts, Drevon. Seth wouldn't kill somebody. None of us would... Did you see him coming back from the city today?"

He felt bad for saying it, but his bitterness for Seth quelled those feelings. Drevon, however, seemed confused. "N-no?" He sniffed.

"According to Ashlyn, he came back crying after we both saw that flying thingo in the market square, attacking the stalls and people... Ah, crap, now I've opened up a can of worms."

He predicted the new look on Drevon's face. "Wait, what?"

"Long story short, that _thing_ we saw in the sky last night wasn't a weird dragon and was actually this monster. It... well, it killed people, to put it straight." Roland could still hardly stomach the thought. After getting some sleep to ponder over it, however, he was able to accept nothing like it would happen again. Firemore's guard was reliable; they'd get the weaponry fixed and ready to go to stop any more of these invasions. Of course, thoughts of that adolescent cheetah didn't simply vanish. He shuddered. "Anyway, point is, I don't think Seth would want you dead. Dunno if he'd be able to deal with blood on his paws. Maybe he was just... extra mad today. Don't worry about the monster, either."

"N-no, now you've got me interested." Drevon leaned in slightly, shifting the subject. "You mean it actually came in and killed people?"

"Yeah, I was hiding in an alleyway when it happened."

"What did it look like? ...Did you almost get eaten by it?" Drevon's child-like intrigue was sort of unnerving.

"It was grey and it had these yellow eyes and fangs and it screamed at people and..." Roland put a paw to his jaw. "Feel like we're both treating people dying too lightly. It was horrible to watch, and... I'm worried about their families, honestly."

"You didn't know any of them, did ya, bud?"

"Uh, no?"

"Then who cares about 'em. Worry about yourself and your friends. I'm just glad nothing happened to _you_."

"Um... I-I guess?"

"Dragons and cheetahs and moles and stuff die everyday," Drevon said nonchalantly, able to see Roland wasn't convinced. "If I told you some dragon or cheetah kicked the bucket in that Lingrad bullshit overseas, would you care? It's just as if not more brutal and there's thousands more of 'em. There's, like, gunshots and shit, and if you've seen what the cheetahs can do with an E.F... Or heard about what the Assembly's ice dragons do to other people..."

When the newspapers soared out of the printer's offices and landed in the paws of many, the headlines and stories of warring species overseas were on the front page every time. _'Confederates Fight Back', 'Assembly Loses Ground',_ all that jazz, yet Roland couldn't care less about it and overall didn't know anything about it, other than that he was supposed to root for the Confederation, and the weapons used by many were E.F.'s: elemental firearms. Perhaps Drevon had a point, but those damned images wouldn't so easily leave his mind. There was a significant difference between hearing it from miles away than seeing it before your very eyes. "Maybe you're right."

"I always am!" Surprisingly, he grinned, seeming to forget about the encounter earlier. That, or he desired some semblance of respite from Roland. "Anyway," he continued, getting up, the red dragon following suit, "I think it's a bit early to go out and do shit today. Think we should both go back to bed."

"Yeah, alright." Roland nearly tripped over the pillows Drevon then started gathering. "I'll see you in the morning."

"It is morning." Drevon shoved his own pocket watch into the red dragon's face, chuckling.

He pushed his paw away. "See you _later_ then, smart-arse." Roland ambled out the door. He stopped as he found himself within the sewers once more. "And hey, Drevon?"

"What do you want, bud?"

"You can tell me, you know." His smirk gave way to the warmest smile he could muster. "Don't keep it all bogged up inside of you. You don't deserve this. I'll see if I can talk to Seth about it because he'd probably be willing to listen to me."

"You... you sure?" Unconvinced, Drevon stopped gathering his pillows and moved to the oaken door. However, the determination in Roland's eyes settled any doubts he had.

"Yeah, of course. I can't just let you be antagonised by him."

Drevon beamed. "Thanks, Roly. Goodnight." And with an awkward creak, the door closed in front of Roland, leaving him to stare into the empty sewers once more.

The purple dragon of all things, bullied by a mere earth dragon. It was completely unreasonable, Roland thought. Spyro had been that heroic, loyal, loving soul nobody opposed – until he turned to the darkness, of course – if not because of their love for him but for their fear over what a purple dragon could unleash. Truly, Roland had never seen the powers of aether before his own eyes, but he'd read stories of it, of magic that rippled through the air, tearing away light, ripping the world asunder. Even a breath would turn the strongest to a cinder.

"Yet Seth's not afraid of any of that?" Roland questioned, sauntering along the pathway to his room. He realised his voice echoed and trapped his muzzle with a paw. "Not to mention their power in everything else..." he muttered.

Maybe Drevon was different to the other purple dragons, though. He certainly wasn't heroic and hadn't displayed his true power to anybody yet. If Roland had that kind of power, he'd use it willy nilly, but maybe only because he'd never felt an element before. Perhaps Drevon knew not to blast whatever he saw fit with the element of the purple dragons.

Or maybe Drevon couldn't. Roland hadn't thought about that. All this time he'd been seeing purple dragons as this legendary race of his own kin – in spite of how annoying he could become in the span of two seconds, he looked up to Drevon, a feeling he didn't share with anybody else. They were supposed to be born in times of prophecy, either to smite evil or become the darkness. He'd always wondered which one Drevon was when he was far younger, but those feelings stopped after a while.

Drevon's story seemed different. Perhaps he was just another normal dragon. And, just maybe, _that_ was the way Seth saw it.


	4. Cat in a Hat

Cat in a Hat

Roland didn't exactly know where to begin. Awakening a few hours later, he'd set his mind on speaking to Seth, as per his words to Drevon, but where was he supposed to start? He'd been determined on outright telling him to quit the nonsense and apologise. Thinking over Seth's tendencies to be volatile, however, made him question whether his method would at all be effective.

He was more worried over what Seth might do to him. Despite being the sort-of leader of their ragtag gang of misfits, Roland had always felt Seth had more authority and power than him. He couldn't deny he did whatever Seth said with little to no question. Even before the beating of his best friend, he'd been somewhat frightened of him and what he could do.

But none of that stopped him as he walked closer to the door to the office, the area Seth took to residing. He did do a lot of the work, even for the pettiest of their thieves. The vault's wealth, hidden away amongst the pipelines, was taken care of by him, each and every copper piece counted and thrown into piles accordingly. He did sort of force himself into the role, though, building a lock and a sealed hole only he and Roland knew the location of. The red dragon had never been fluent in mathematics, either, so the work fell to him.

Well, he, Seth, and _someone_ _else_ knew. There had been a break-in recently. They didn't take much, but it did leave them all startled...

Other than that, Seth also kept everyone in line when he was around. Years ago, there had often been bickering and fights breaking out amongst their ranks, but... Well, Roland guessed Seth ended up scaring them all. Whether he did to them what he did to Drevon, Roland wasn't sure, but he hoped not.

Roland swallowed the ball of fear gathering in his throat. Whatever happened, he'd try to make sure this meeting would go smoother than the torture in Drevon's room. At least he was _friends_ with Seth, unlike the purple dragon. They'd known each other for years.

He didn't bother knocking knowing he had the authorisation to enter. Seth wouldn't mind that much. The wooden door opened and, readying himself for his appeal to Seth, he traipsed inside.

Seth didn't notice him come in, his back turned as he sorted items into a set of drawers in the corner. Unlike many an office, this one acted as Seth's bedroom as well. Akin to Drevon's room, the other corner had a basket brimming with pillows, yet their range of colour lacked the disorganisation of Drevon's. A bulb of yellow light was strung to the ceiling, flickering almost menacingly, above a desk in the very centre, a crinkled map of Firemore splayed atop its surface as well as various writing instruments. The chair Seth usually seated himself in was neatly tucked into the desk, needed so he could reach the map without standing on his hind legs.

Roland once again cleared his throat. Seth turned away from the papers and valuables by his feet.

"Oh, hey, Roland." A slight grin played at his muzzle. Roland hoped he would understand his actions were unfounded and dreadful. "I thought you were someone else."

"Who did you think I was?" he asked. Seth shrugged.

"Eh, it doesn't matter. What do you need?"

"Well, I came to ask if you've been, uh... _involved_ in anything with Drevon. You know, just out of curiosity..."

He noticed Seth's eye visibly twitch, but his thin smile remained unchanging. "Why do you ask?"

"I thought I heard your voice coming through the wall last night." Roland walked around the desk to the other corner of the room when Seth started moving towards the door, carrying a small lamp to a neat little table near it. "Plus... Drevon looked a bit hurt this morning."

"You know exactly what's going on here, Roland, don't you?" Seth shut the door with a low click. Roland swallowed the lump gathering in his throat again. "He put you up to this, didn't he?"

Roland tried his best to stand resolute, keep his paws from trembling like reeds. "No, he didn't. I came by myself... Come on, Seth, it's wrong. You can't just go and pin someone to a wall and treat them like that. It's–"

"My mother never told me it was wrong," he intervened. "She encouraged it. She treated me the same way. She always told me that I needed to grow up, and I did. I'm just trying to show Drevon his place. He's not a good dragon. He's sca–"

"What do you have against him?" Roland held back his own anger, instead responding with some curiosity. "He hasn't ever done anything to you."

Seth's laugh was dry and humourless. "What a fucking joke. Hasn't done _anything_? He takes bloody everything from us and he doesn't give enough back. Plus, I _know_ he was responsible for the break-in to our vault. When I asked the fucker about it, he didn't even answer me."

"And how is that a reason?" Roland asked, unable to stop the poison seeping into his tone. "Maybe he's fucking scared of you, Seth. Maybe that's why he doesn't want to talk to you."

"The _purple dragon_ scared of someone like me? Seriously?" Seth, again, laughed. "I think you might need to get checked up there, Roland. That's completely ridiculous. He should be able to hold his own weight against some earth dragon like myself."

"I think you know he's scared of you and you're just trying to blame him for shit he never would've done."

"Well, what are you gonna do about it, lanky?" Seth sat there, paw behind the desk. Roland noted the glow he attempted to hide. "You came in here to tell me to stop it. What are you gonna do about it? Gonna teach me lesson, no-breath? Gonna hit me?"

"Unlike you, I don't beat up my family for no reason," Roland retorted. Seth's weak smile vanished. "Nobody deserves that. Not even you, despite how much of an arsehole I've learned you are today."

"You don't have a fucking family anymore. Neither do I."

"Well, if we're not family to you, what are we, Seth?" Roland glared. "Are we just a group of thieves to you? Are we pushovers you use to get what you want? Are you really that much of an arsehole?"

Seth clearly didn't care for hiding his paw anymore. He stalked closer to Roland, growling. "You wanna call me an arsehole again?" Truly, Roland realised now that Seth was a head taller than him. He was tiny in the dragon's shadow, but never did he allow his nerves to get the better of him. "You think you scare me, Roland?"

"No, of course I don't." He looked into the Seth's eyes, teeth bared. "I just know I'm better than whatever the fuck you are."

Seth snarled; as Roland predicted, he clenched his paw and a pillar of earth jolted out of the ground. Roland leaped to the side, the stone barely nicking him. Seth was caught off-guard but then opened his mouth. A blast of green collided with Roland as he landed, body slamming into the wall.

Dazed, he looked up. Seth rushed towards him, paw outstretched. He smashed into the metallic wall where the smaller of the two had just been, the clang of iron against his paw reverberating across the office. Atop the desk, Roland panted, wings battered.

"Stop running, Roland. How about you actually fight?"

Roland didn't answer, taking a stapler in his paws. He pegged it at the brown dragon. It smacked him fair in the face with an audible thump. Seth fell to the ground with a yelp even Roland hadn't expected, the glow evaporating.

Seth bounced to his feet, rage burning in his eyes. He held his skull, bloodied by the steel instrument. "Y-you fucker. I didn't think you'd get dirty..."

"And pinning me to a wall to torture me isn't dirty?" Roland readied the tape dispenser in his paws and sent it hurtling through the air, only for Seth to duck and charge the desk. He fell off, tripping up and winding himself.

He tried to sprint away but Seth stepped onto his tail blade and he stumbled over his legs. When he did manage to slither away from the brown dragon, he noted the chair held high within Seth's paws.

With a startled cry akin to the screams of the market square, the wooden seat met his eyes.

His vision darkened as he hit the floor. He tried desperately to clamber away, knocked far out of his senses. Everything shook and the world spun, a wash of greys and browns. The chair seemed to echo as it fell to the ground; he felt splinters sting his spine.

"You've... done..."

He couldn't understand him. His mind flared, the world churning. He wasn't sure, but he felt his back against something.

There was a crack and Roland torpidly turned to face it. A blob of green entered the office, loud and unnerving. He couldn't tell who it was. He was more focused on the bleary crimson he could see gushing from his nostrils and down his forehead.

"S... wh..."

His mind went numb. He couldn't feel a thing. His vision gave way, dying like the whimper escaping his mouth.

* * *

The next thing he knew something was stabbing his face, a pain unlike any other he'd felt. So much energy coursing through him at once, he yelled out, gasping. The sheets he once slumbered in were torn in his panic.

Then his sudden burst of energy faded as though it'd never been there, the stabbing weakening to a tolerable sting. His ragged gasps were reduced to no more than a faint pant. He looked to the side, discerning his location. A tiny crate of crystals lay beside him, both varying shades of red and purple. Fury gems were amongst them, explaining his outburst. Seemed as though he'd absorbed some amongst the red healing crystals. The opening of the door distracted him from them, though.

"Oh, finally, you're awake!" The green dragoness, Myrtle, called from his doorway, dropping yet another handful of gems to the floor. They shattered, fragments spilling everywhere. "And you've... ripped up all your nice, clean bed sheets."

"How long have I..." He spluttered, voice croaky. "H-how long's it been?"

"A day, Roly," Myrtle said. "Seth really did a number on–"

"A day!?" It hadn't felt that long at all! One moment he'd been out cold, the next he was in bed. He touched his forehead, remembering the violent smashing of his skull. The scales were soft and almost gooey. The chair nearly smashed through his skull. At least he couldn't feel much of the pain anymore, thanks to spirit gems. "Ancestors..."

"Yeah, I wasn't sure if you were actually gonna wake up. Thank the Ancestors for spirit gems." Myrtle looked surprisingly miserable. It was her turn to feel exhausted apparently. Possibly because of her endeavours to retrieve spirit gems for him. They had spirit gems in their vault, but no fury gems... Why had she gone out of her way for these? "Seth hit you with a fucking chair after all... Why'd you antagonise him, Roland? He doesn't usually attack people, especially with chairs. He told me you said some stupid things."

"I guess I did let my anger get the better of me." He exhaled, relaxing his head against the bedhead. "It's a bit of a long story."

He explained the events prior to Myrtle. The more he said, the more her face contorted into a look of disgust, but it seemed she knew of what he spoke.

"I saw some of that stuff earlier," she said soon after. "All the yelling. I thought Seth was just angry at him for somethin' though, not that this was some ongoing attempt to bully him. I wonder what Drevon did to start all this."

"I'd wonder if he even did anything," Roland said back, suppressing the irritation in his tone. "I've only ever seen Drevon have a few mishaps, and that was only ever stuff you'd just laugh off. He'd never do anything to deserve this."

"Yeah. It's surprising to hear about a purple dragon being tormented like this anyway." Myrtle sat and put a claw to her jaw. She smirked a second later. "Though, it's also pretty surprising to see a purple dragon do anythin', considering how rare they are. Rest assured, this shouldn't happen again. I... talked to Seth about it."

He grimaced. "Myrtle, you sound just as bad as him when you say it like that."

"Well, talked as in... yelled at him a fair bit, maybe slapped him once. He knows better than to hit _me,_ though _._ " She winked. Roland breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't need Firemore's band of thieves going to war over this predicament... Although, after receiving a mouthful of chair, he wouldn't mind the green dragoness roughing him up a bit. "You feelin' okay now, Roland?" she questioned next.

"I've just got a headache." He threw the fragmented sheets to the floor and jumped out of bed – he landed too hard, he realised, when a cramp rocketed up his spine and through his wings. He stumbled, but managed to keep his footing. "A-and... my back hurts."

"Hey, lay down." Myrtle hurried over and nearly pushed him back into his bed with her wing, what with the way she wrapped it around him. "I'll steal you some new sheets and–"

He shook his head. "No, I'm fine. Just want some fresh air." He smiled, Myrtle releasing him. "It sure does stink in here."

She chuckled. "You tell me you're used to it all the time, though."

"It's not like I don't enjoy the air outside more."

Walking towards the door, Myrtle remembered she'd made a mess. "Well, fine. I've gotta clean this up. Don't get back too late."

He carefully shifted around the gem fragments, careful not to get too close since the shattered gemstones were attracted to dragons. "How do you expect to do it? Unless you're planning on absorbing them all... You know they're like drugs to uninjured dragons, right?"

"Getting high's a _consequence_? Sign me the fuck up!" She gave a hearty laugh. Roland frowned, concerned, but he at least knew they had no major side effects. Well, not that he was aware of. He just wasn't fond of the _colours_ they produced after taking them once _._

"Uh... B-be my guest, Myrtle."

With the green dragoness left to absorb the spirit gems, Roland wandered outside his room and to the sewer's exit pipe. He'd only go out for a quick breather and then he'd come back. The sun was beginning to set after all...

* * *

Funnily enough, his previous idea of relishing in the salty air were tossed aside for yet another trip into the city. It'd only been two days since his last venture into Firemore, but he felt he needed to get away from the pipes for a while. He quite honestly preferred seeing yet another winged horror than he did dealing with his newfound anxiety around Seth. It wasn't like it'd happen again anyhow. The guard was more than capable.

He descended into the usual alleyway beside the market square, certain he hadn't alerted anybody to his presence. The scarlet staining the street had been cleared and the bodies were gone. Even the damages to the city had been for the most part rectified. However, the number of dragons and moles, and especially cheetahs, had declined significantly. Though he could've put that up to the moons rising in the sky and the distant town criers calling the word 'bedtime'.

An hour later, the street lantern above him began to glimmer, lighting the page by his feet. He'd officially run out of ink. He could quickly thieve another vial from the stall owner who'd been so brainless to leave his goods inside the stall. At least they'd locked them away, though a simple iron lock was no match for his claws – yet he didn't go after it.

His mind was unclear, fogged by his worries of Drevon, of what Seth may be doing at that moment he was sitting there. Tempted by his concerns, he nearly packed up and soared back home to check on him, but he set his perturbation aside for the peace of the night. Maybe Myrtle had taught Seth a lesson...

He looked to the luminous streets outside the alleyway and his heart skipped a beat when he saw a flicker of a movement beyond. First, he was unsure. He clambered to his feet and slipped into the murk of the night when he noticed the jingle of light armour.

They stopped at his alleyway, he noted with his golden eyes. The figure was a cheetah – he could tell by the height alone.

"You can come out, Red Rodent," the guard spoke. Amazingly, Roland knew the voice. He remembered the shakiness in the guard's tone two days back as though it'd only been mere minutes ago. "Roland... That's your name, is it not?"

The guard knew his name as well. Roland, frightened by this despite his familiarity with the cat, leaped upwards, ascending the buildings without so much as a whisper of sound. Before he reached the top, the guard spoke again.

"I'm not here to arrest you! I simply wish to speak with you. It's about the dreadwing incident."

Roland stopped, holding onto the ledge of the building. Dreadwing? That was what they were calling it? The lure of knowledge broke past his suspicions.

He heard the page he was writing on being lifted, a metallic hand scraping along the stone. Quiet for a moment, he felt his face warm. He hadn't had a stranger read his writings before.

"Hey, this isn't bad," the cheetah complimented. "Where did somebody like you learn to write like this? Really good stuff, especially for one who's never received an education. I really like the way you curl your 'G's too. It reminds me of the way Tris does it... Sorry, I'm rambling."

Roland scampered back down the buildings again, if not to retrieve his pages then to mildly gush about his supposed masterpiece. He met the guard face to face, surprised to see him without a helmet on. He wasn't sure, but the stranger's face had a bluish hue, something he'd never seen in a cheetah before. Some kind of _arctic_ cheetah, perhaps? His face was obscured by the broad hat he wore, though. Roland could've been wrong.

"Um... Th-thanks." Roland held out his paw to take it back. The guard was perplexed for a moment but mentally slapped himself soon enough.

"Ah, yes, sorry," he spoke, handing the page back. "You have the proficiency in writing of an academy graduate, Roland. Very surprising stuff to see, even more so when I believe you're only sixteen years of age."

"How do you know my name?" he asked, curiosity in his eyes. Perhaps his infamy had sparked interest in the cheetah before him. Uncomfortably, he seated himself on the stone. Of course, he wasn't willing to be captured yet again, so he made sure he was ready to spring away at a moment's notice. "And what's yours?"

"My name's Harper." Harper bowed shortly, lifting the hat off his head; a man of formalities, clearly. Even the rough, chipped armour he donned didn't take away from his relatively fancy appearance. "And I heard you speaking to that friend of yours before the dreadwing attacked."

"Why the name 'dreadwing'? Did you make up that name on the spot?" Roland asked. "Uh, it sounds... pretty edgy."

Harper grinned slightly. "Oh, Ancestors, no. I'd be a laughing stock around my other writing colleagues. No, it was a name we found in a number of books about mythical creatures. Turns out they weren't so mythical after all."

Roland almost wanted to believe Harper was lying to him, deceiving him into a false sense of security – the guards had done it before – but his tone seemed too genuine for that. Plus, the creature did look as if it had been ripped straight from a fantasy novel. Couldn't deny that.

"Why do you want to talk to me about this dreadwing?" he questioned. "I don't really know anything, other than that... Well, you saved me from it. I guess I should probably thank you."

"No need." Harper waved his paw in front of him modestly. "And I was stupefied that the creature didn't come rushing towards you. You clearly weren't affected by its fear blasting, either... Tell me, Roland, you do have an element, right?"

He felt Harper was going a little too far with this. "Um... Why do you wanna know?"

"Me and my associates believe that these blasts of fear may be related to magic," Harper explained. "See, we all have magic in some capacity, and I believe the most fluent in the elements were affected more than others. Even I and the rest of the cheetahs were affected. We have a little earth in us, after all. But you... You were terrified, clearly, but you weren't screaming and breaking down like the others. You just seemed shocked, but otherwise unharmed by it."

"Sounds like you're making a lot of assumptions." But Roland knew he was correct in some way. He'd expressed puzzlement over why he hadn't been paralysed like the rest of them. "I do know what you're talking about, though. I was thinking about it myself. I don't have an element, no."

"Do you know that a great deal of those affected haven't recovered yet?" Harper leaned his back against the wall, the iron scraping gratingly against the stone. The cheetah made certain to keep still after the noise. "They've gotten better, but a lot of the dragons with overly strong affinities for their element are paranoid over nothing at the moment. We fear what an attack on a larger scale might do to the city's population. There's apparently been more sightings of them circling areas outside Firemore, but we can't confirm anything yet."

Roland felt a bead of sweat roll down his forehead, coursing between his scales. This city didn't need another dreadwing invasion. "But what does this have to do with me for you to come here?"

"To put it straight, I think your predicament is strange. At first, I thought your element was late, but this dreadwing attack makes me think you'll never have one, considering you weren't affected. Which, if you didn't know, is completely impossible within a dragon. Or, well, we thought so until now..."

Roland had come to accept that he'd never unlock the true potential of a dragon, but now he was somehow involved in this because he didn't have an element? He didn't know how to feel about that. A bit too coincidental, he thought. "Maybe I've just got some rare disability or something. So what? What's this have to do with creatures that came out of seemingly nowhere? If there's somebody to link _anything_ to, it's the purple dragon, not me."

"I have my feelings that the purple dragon would be just as affected as anyone else, maybe even more so because of their unnatural power," Harper said. "You might not be wrong, but it makes me think that... perhaps _you_ might have something to do with this. Something you probably don't know, of course. I'm not blaming you for any of this, and it's all just a theory at the moment..."

"I still don't get it." Roland crossed his forepaws, beginning to lose his patience.

"I think the dreadwing was looking for you," he finished.

Roland raised a brow, disturbed by his remark. "Looking for me? Why would it–"

"I don't _know_ ," Harper interrupted. "But I get the feeling something bigger is going on here than just the return of a creature we thought was myth. You might have a part in it."

He thought about it for a moment, yet it still seemed so unrealistic. His element being missing couldn't be anything more than a birth defect. "I doubt I'm part of some huge prophecy thing. I'm just another street rat, Harper."

"Just think about it for a while, alright?" Harper pulled a slip of paper from the leather satchel by his side and held it out for Roland. "This is my address. Meet me in two days if you feel any different."

"What's in it for me?" he asked, looking over the slip of paper. _99 Firespark Row_. Roland recognised the house; it was a pretty standard stone house, though he'd never seen the cheetah inside of it.

Harper smiled. "I'm glad you asked. I know you're at least somewhat interested in this case, so maybe you'd like to help me figure it out. I feel you'd like a few tips on your writing as well, and my child, Tris, knows more about the elements than even I do. Perhaps she can help you with your element if you really do have one. Plus, it would help rule out the possibility of anything strange being the case here, and perhaps we can find out if it _is_ just mere coincidence."

A tantalising offer, but Roland didn't know yet. "How do I know I can trust you? You might just lock me away again."

"To tell you the truth, none of the guard cares for you now." He chuckled softly, though his voice did seem shameful. "They've accepted that some things are just going to be stolen. By the law of Spyro, high-king of years gone, we can't do much to stop you, other than lock you away for a while and try to get you an education. And I don't care enough to put you in an academy. It's a waste of my time, because you'll just run away again."

And he'd thought they were still hot on his tail, searching for him... Maybe he could try stealing from them to revitalise their interest in the mysterious Red Rodent. He did enjoy a little competition. "Well, I'll... I'll think about it."

"Splendid!" The cheetah did a sort of victory fist-pump, placing the hat upon his head again. "I'll see you there then. Now, get going before the other guards find me talking to you."

"Uh, yeah. See you." Roland picked up his vial of ink, capped it, and took off into the sky. Strange times were abound indeed. First a monster, then learning Seth was an utter arsehole, and then being invited elsewhere? He'd never been summoned by another person before, other than his friends.

"Still don't know how to feel about being _involved_ in this somehow..." he muttered lowly to himself. It was fascinating Harper did assume he had some part to play in the arrival of the dreadwings, but nonetheless he remained doubtful. He'd only known thievery. Having some part to play in a plot bigger than himself was out of his comfort zone.

He felt uncomfortable, not only because of that, but because of Harper's knowledge. He seemed a little too determined to win him over.

Well, he'd go for the writing tips, anyway. Harper didn't have anything against him. Maybe this visit to his home would be _exciting_.


	5. Monster House

Monster House

There simply was no better place to sit than the entrance to the sewers. The ocean sprawled and glistened before him, earthy green dotting the horizon, faint against the sky's orange tint. Rain beat a gentle rhythm into the metallic pipe above him, protruding out of Firemore's great wall – he tried to find a tempo, but he lost focus whenever it fluctuated. He could smell the salt in the air; by some miracle, it drowned the stench of the sewers. Despite being the entrance to their sewer system, what one would think would be busy, he could find no greater area to gather his thoughts, not even the peace of his own makeshift bedroom. Not many really lived down here. He was too distracted to care for anyone passing through if they did.

At that very moment, his thoughts were on the dreadwings he eyed flittering amongst the distant clouds. Even from the pipes, he listened to their screams. While the paralysis never affected him, he still trembled. And, despite his distance, he felt he could see their faces in perfect detail: he never forgot those yellow eyes that breached his mind, pierced his soul. It was as though it were looking into him, judging him. Drevon had told him not to worry about them, but the thought still struck him with anxiety.

Though, Harper was worried about them too, and he was a _guard_. Perhaps there was reason to fear the winged terrors.

After their little conversation he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he was the cause, despite the lacklustre logic in Harper's theorising. He knew his thoughts were irrational, but there wasn't much that _was_ rational about olden mythological creatures rising out of who knows where.

Maybe the fear they struck into even brave hearts was making him paranoid...

"Hey, is that those things up there?" a young voice asked from behind him, feet scampering along the stone. He turned to find Carolin eyeing the skies ahead with intrigue, Ashlyn beside her, worriedly scrutinising the soaring beasts.

"That's them alright." He'd told Ashlyn, yet not Carolin. Ashlyn must've said something to the green dragoness. Strangely, Carolin bounced excitedly after seeing them.

"What are they doing?" her keen voice questioned. "They're just... flying around in circles near each other." Now her tone turned to disappointment. "Is it, like... a mating dance?"

"The last thing I want to think of is those _things_ doing it, Carolin." He shook his head, disgusted yet amused at the same time. "...How do you even know what that is? You're only eleven. You're too young to know about that."

"Blame Drevvy!" she laughed. Ashlyn awkwardly shuffled in place. "... _And_ Ash!"

"Y-you kept going on and on! You wouldn't stop asking what–"

"Okay, that's enough." He grinned. "You should run along, Carolin. You have someplace else to be, _right_?"

She realised what he meant. Her face soured, knowing she had work to do cleaning out a valuable stall beyond the market square. "Aw... But I wanna watch the cool monsters in the sky!"

"You can look at them when you're flying." He pointed to the entrance. "Just don't get close to them. They're _real_ hungry."

"Ugh, _fine..."_ She hunkered down for a moment before leaping sloppily into the air, spreading her wingspan with unease. Roland laughed at her, but she didn't seem to care. "See ya!"

"Bye..." Ashlyn said softly, voice trailing. Carolin waved to the both of them and Roland looked after her for a few moments before turning to Ashlyn. She took a seat beside him, studying her ring with an awkward smile plastered to her face.

"Made a friend?" he asked her cheerily. She nodded.

"Yeah, she's... _nice_. I like her."

"Makes sense. Carolin's practically everyone's friend. Well, unless you try to steal Mr. Fluffles..."

He didn't say more to spark a conversation. Instead, he returned to his thoughts, relishing in the gentle breeze drifting through the entrance. He savoured that scent permeating the air. He wondered if the dreadwings beyond were enjoying it.

Another darted through the remote trees, joining the pair circling the skies. They didn't remove themselves from their circular formation, screeching at each other. Their screams tore through the skies and met his ear holes in spite of the distance they shared. Ashlyn shuddered next to him, unable to tear her eyes away from them.

"That scream... I-it kind of scares me," her low voice came forth. He felt her shiver beside him. "I wonder where they came from. Harper–er, I mean... one of the _guards_ told me about them yesterday..."

"You know Harper?" he interrupted, brow rising. "I met him yesterday. How do you know him?"

"Oh, you do know him... Dad was a part of the guard." She stretched her ligaments before laying upon the stone, resting her chin atop her paw. Her expression sorrowed. "He... He passed away, though, as you probably know. I-I am an orphan, after all, just like the rest of you. Harper was his best friend back in the day."

"Sorry about that," he said, offering her a comforting wing. Roland had heard stories from all of their recruits, some explained through tears and sobs, other dragons grimly calm about it. He'd heard _so many_ tales that his responses had grown increasingly generic and nonchalant.

She shook her head soon after. He awkwardly retracted his wing. "Don't be. I-it was a while ago now... Anyway, we had that robbery thing on tonight, right?"

"What are you talking... Oh, crap, we do!" He jumped to his feet, panicked, but breathed a gentle sigh of relief a moment later when he realised he was already awaiting his friends at Myrtle's specified meeting point. An embarrassed chuckle slipped through his muzzle. "Whoops. I completely forgot. Guess I've had my mind on other stuff."

"What kind of stuff?" she questioned, polishing her ring with a rag she carried within the satchel by her flank. He could see a little bit of paper poking out from within it, and a few lines drawn atop it, shapes he couldn't quiet make out. Soon after, she groomed her horns with the now grimy cloth. She definitely took some pride in her appearance.

"Harper invited me to his place yesterday and... Well, it's just stuff. Nothing important. Don't worry about it." He noticed footfalls behind him and turned his head, Myrtle trailing behind a purple dragon. "Finally here!" he called. "I almost forgot myself, don't worry."

The earth dragoness jogged to the side of an abnormally exhausted Drevon, a scowl on her face. "This purple layabout wouldn't get out of bed." She turned to Drevon who gave her an innocent smile, to which she narrowed her eyes. He seemed to flinch in pain, stepping on a paw that was hurt. Must've been Seth's work a little while ago. "Don't give me that face."

"Couldn't I have slept _another_ hour?" he asked. Myrtle only glared.

"The sun's _setting_ , you dork. You ain't nocturnal." She looked to Ashlyn. "Ready for your first night out, blue girl?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," the ice dragoness replied. "Though, it's... kind of nerve-wracking."

Myrtle clapped her on the back with a wing, Ashlyn flinching as she did so. "Hey, we're all like that. First we ain't sure about it – we all think it's wrong – but after your first time, I bet you'll love it. It's mostly for fun anyway. We don't have too much else to do, and education's for losers. Who wants to go out and learn a bunch of math and elemental techniques we already know?"

"Y-yeah... I guess."

" _Anyway_ ," Drevon began, stamping his foot impatiently, "can we get this show on the road? I wanna go back to bed."

"You don't have to come if you don't want to." Roland gestured towards the electric lights illiuminating the halls behind them.

Drevon rolled his eyes. "Last time I said that, Myrtle gave me some stupid, boring job to do. I am not cleaning your room ever again. I think I can still feel all the spirit gems you keep in that drawer." He hunkered down before spreading his wings and gliding into the air. "I'll see you there!"

Myrtle laughed and followed suit without another word. Ashlyn looked to Roland and gave a weak smile before following the green tail whipping in the air.

Before taking off he looked to the skies once more. The dreadwings were gone, vanished into thin air. The screeching had stopped. "Must've gone to bed..."

He shook his head. He needed to get his mind off them. He'd barely been able to close his eyes to rest pondering the things those monsters would do to the city. Harper was fearful of further violence being wrought upon Firmore, and through his words, Roland was too. It'd only felt like moments ago when he'd spoken of Roland as though he were special amongst the reappearance of creatures long forgotten, and only moments since he'd felt doubtful of the cat's theories. He was _still_ , but a feeling tugged at his gut anyway. What if he _was_ related to this?

"Are you coming, Roland?" Ashlyn called, hovering in front of him. He snapped out of his distant staring.

"Sorry, yeah." He leaped upwards and took off past her, leaving Ashlyn bewildered behind him. Best he focus on the mission at hand and not the monsters looming on the horizon.

* * *

Something about the mansion in front of Roland was off. Foreboding, even. Perhaps it was the arched, pointed architecture beneath the faint blood red of Adrano, the larger of the celestial moons, or maybe it was strange seeing such an ancient building amongst the modern structures of today, despite it seeming to blend in with the rest of the block. These parts of the city were pretty old in comparison with the rest of Firemore. Perhaps it was the gentle yet ominous rainfall pattering against the pavement and roof. He and Myrtle had decided earlier it was the most boring of the houses by the looks of the emptiness contained within – except for the top floor, of course – but now it stood out as the most interesting on the entire block.

He found it strange that Ashlyn seemed to be shaking as well, her mouth agape. Eventually, though, he wrote it off as her nerves getting the better of her.

"Well, this is it," Myrtle said. "Nobody's around and we're clear to break in." She wiggled her claw into the keyhole and unlocked the mechanism within seconds, then looked back at the red dragon with a wry smile. Her skill was rivalling his own; he felt jealous over that, that he wasn't the thieves' best picker anymore, but a competitive smirk pulled at his maw anyway. "Now let's plan this out so we–"

"I call kitchen," Drevon called, his voice sudden but silent. "I'm starving."

"Drevon, wait–" Roland tried to hiss after the purple dragon, but it was too late for the reckless dragon had already pushed past Myrtle. Roland shook his head, voice low. "I like you, Drevon, but you're a fucking idiot sometimes."

"His mind's always on food." Myrtle sighed, entering the doorway. "And sleep... Whatever. The place is empty. Roland, you search the bottom with Ashlyn for anythin' we might've missed lookin' through the windows. I'll go stuff that real expensive statuette into my satchel after I check that one cabinet I've been eyein'."

"Okay," he replied. She nodded before wandering into the darkness of the house.

Roland felt odd walking up to the house. The low voice in his mind tried to pull him away. He felt almost in danger, as though his mind knew something would go wrong. But there was nobody here. It was silent. In spite of the building looking as though it'd come out of one of those horror plays the theatre liked to put on from occasion, it was just another normal home. A dragon _did_ live here, he knew, but they weren't home now. There was nothing to be afraid of.

It'd just be another normal robbery...

Then why did he feel so afraid? And, when he looked behind him, he wondered why Ashlyn wasn't making an effort to move towards the house.

"Are you coming, Ashlyn?" He cocked his head, walking up to her. Her eyes seemed damp, but that could only be from staring so long. "I'm sure it'll be okay. I'll make sure we have some fun. Everyone has nerves their first–"

"Y-yeah!" she exclaimed abruptly, almost too loud, moving towards the door. Confusion replaced his reassuring smile. "Let's go. I'm ready!"

"Uh, yeah. Th-that's the attitude you wanna have."

He couldn't see much of the house as they entered, blanketed by darkness. Only the floorboards stood out, light seeping through a small skylight in the roof, and the oaken door ahead. Through scrutiny of the house from beyond its walls, however, he knew a chest of drawers lay to his left. Unfortunately, he found nothing of worth; only dusty portraits he couldn't make out the faces of – not that he cared much for them. The appearance of their victim wouldn't matter.

"Nothing here. It is only the entry, though," he said, turning to where he thought Ashlyn was standing. "How's about we head into the next room and look around?"

He wasn't exactly waiting for an answer, but he did expect one. That, and he expected to hear footsteps trailing behind him. He spun in a circle, looking for her.

"Ash? You there?" he felt around the darkness, but couldn't find the blue dragoness. "Ashlyn?"

He rushed into the next room of the house, a room made for sitting and greeting others. She wasn't atop the couch square in the centre or around the odd, worthless ornaments lying in front of it, nor searching the cabinets behind it all, as Myrtle was currently on that. She wasn't even around the weird trap door in the corner, but he hadn't heard that old thing creak at all.

"If anything, she knows how to make herself disappear," he mumbled to himself. Myrtle apparently heard him, lifting her head. Her expression was nearly unrecognisable within the gloom of these walls, but he knew she was perplexed as well.

"You okay, Roland?" she asked, then quickly changed her question. "...Where's the blue girl?"

Roland exhaled. "She was literally right next to me, and then she just... _disappeared_. I didn't even hear her leave my side, and I'm usually good at picking out footsteps."

Myrtle seemed to panic slightly, her plan already disrupted enough for the night. "Great. Now we have Drevvy to worry about making a mess, and now a rookie causin' a ruckus. At least it's only Ashlyn – she doesn't feel like one to start a house fire."

He slowly began to shuffle off, but not before spouting the obvious joke. "She's an ice dragoness. I don't think she's capable..."

"Very funny." Myrtle shook her head, grabbing an item from the cabinets. She put it back quickly after, realising it was yet another picture. Roland wondered why they had so many photos and was tempted to dust off the next he saw. "Look for Ashlyn, Roland. She'd easily get lost in a mansion like this."

"Already on it." Roland moved on, floorboards murmuring beneath his padding paws. He approached a hallway with various other rooms attached to it, one of which being the kitchen, in which Drevon had taken to raiding the cookie jar. No ice dragoness, however, so he continued his search. Drevon wouldn't have paid any attention.

To his right lay two rooms. They seemed as though they weren't in use – bare, cobwebs slung amongst the roofing, faint amongst the pale red through their arched windows. The house looked as though it'd never been in use by anyone, and from snooping about, he and Myrtle had found that the fat majority of the mansion's rooms were empty and unexciting. All they wanted was a golden statuette. Myrtle apparently knew a fence who desired such a thing and offered a large sum of copper for its liberation.

He'd best be worrying over Ashlyn's location, however. Climbing the set of stairs ahead of him, he reached the second floor of the mansion. The bathroom and two bedrooms lay ahead, one of the bedrooms smaller than the other, fit for a child such as he. It was fully furnished too, in stark contrast to the rest of the plain rooms, even the bigger of the bedrooms, and especially the haunting exterior. He didn't pay it much mind for a moment, but his curiosity was piqued by a weird little box placed beside the bed.

 _Homely_. He felt that was the only way to describe the rest of the room. It reminded him of his old home.

The kid in question was clearly a reader, several large bookshelves reaching the summit of the room tucked into the corner, and quite obviously loved drawing by the stacks of paper and sketches spread haphazardly across a desk on the other side of the bed. His intrigue over the box vanished for a moment to examine the drawings.

Roland flicked on a desk light after drawing the blue curtains closed above the desk. First he read the title of a book flipped open to a page halfway: _'The Anatomy of our Scaled Friends'._ Dragons from different angles were illustrated upon the parchment, and as he foresaw, the pages beside the tome were dotted with sketches of scaled creatures. He noted one particular drawing, however, an exquisite work of two dragons side by side, one young, another old, staring into distant stars, leaning into each other. The pair must've meant a lot to the kid, as many of the other drawings were of the same scene, only failed attempts they'd disregarded.

He didn't want to take the kid's best work of art, but he did desire a copy for his own room, considering the work's beauty. It'd be a nice memento to the first robbery inside their elaborate plan too. He grabbed one of the more complete attempts at the scene, one with only the adult drawn. It had the same finesse as the complete work, only the owner didn't care for it, being stacked amongst the copies he guessed they would burn, as evidenced by the fireplace with crumpled parchment beside it.

Tucking it beneath his wing, he moved to the odd box. He wondered if there were more drawings contained within its colourful walls. As he flicked the lock and opened the lid, he found he was incorrect. Only another picture was contained within, though this time he raised it to the light. It looked as though it were in good care, unlike the other frames. Roland didn't know why it wasn't being displayed, because the shot was actually quite beautiful. It wasn't drawn by the kid in question, being almost realistic in appearance.

He recognised the figures in the frame from the drawing, a mother and her child sitting side by side, in nearly the same position he'd seen in the other piece of art. Two blue dragons, simply enjoying a sunset this time around. It was almost life-like in appearance – the older of the dragons, the mother of the young hatchling seated beside her, reminded him of his own. A twinge of regret stabbed at his gut, but he knew better than to think of her, focusing on the child instead.

Roland had to squint; the kid's features were more difficult to make out, but they were definitely there. Her face evoked a picture of Ashlyn in his mind, but it was only the white ivory horns that gave him that impression.

His concentration was broken by a low gasp like a whisper, but his keen senses managed to pick it up. He turned to find a startled Ashlyn, mouth agape, staring into him as though he were a demon.

"Ashlyn, wait up!" Roland called as she was about to start running again. He managed to stop her, fortunately. The bewilderment he felt earlier over her sudden departure resurfaced. A scowl upset his features. "What are you _doing_?! Why would just _run off_!?"

Ashlyn looked to want to take flight again, ignore the issues she'd caused. She started to move towards the door again, but Roland was quick and leaped in front of her, shutting the door before she could sprint off.

"No, you're not leaving until you tell me what the hell you're doing," he said. Ashlyn shuffled back, face uneasy in the light. Her eyes seem to focus on the parchment between him and his wing, but only for one negligible moment. "What's wrong? Why are you running around like a lunatic? I thought you wanted to rob a place, not do... whatever you're doing!"

"R-Roland, we need to go somewhere else," she replied, doing her best to assume a resolute stance. "It's urgent. Seriously."

"I doubt it. As soon as I open that door, you're gonna run away again."

"M-my... There's someone in the house, Roland. I'm trying to warn everyone–"

Any anger in his voice vanished instantly, replaced by fear. "Wait, _what_?! I thought it was empty! Myrtle said so!"

"Be _quiet_!" she hissed. "W-we don't want him to hear us..."

The old floorboards outside muttered in pain, slow footfalls replacing the silence. He put his head to the door. Each step sent a tremble tumbling down his spine. Ashlyn joined him, same anxiety painted across her expression. They looked into each other's eyes, and then both turned their gaze to the window.

The others would hear the those loud footsteps. They'd make their way outside easily enough. Roland trusted their abilities.

He rushed to the curtains, hurriedly drawing them open as he flicked off the desk light. The footfalls drew closer, still slow, yet agonisingly so. He grasped at the window's handles, pushing at them, but it wouldn't budge. He shoved it fiercely, but his meek frame couldn't muster the strength needed. Ashlyn, however, was idly standing, trembling. The embarrassment was clear when she noticed him staring at her.

She jumped to the desk as he did and, in tandem, shoved at the window with him. They were strong enough together, yet Ashlyn was too powerful – the window's doors, having not been opened in what seemed like an eternity, were severed from their rusted hinges, descending and smashing on the cobble below. He cringed as the glass snapped like lightning, fragments tinkling on the pavement.

They looked to each other again. Ashlyn seemed more shocked than he, even slightly disappointed, but her emotions held no matter now, and neither did his. He leaped to the arched hole they'd created, but his horns struck the top and he came staggering back into Ashlyn. The dragoness yelped in surprise, claws slipping on the parchment scattered across the desk, and the pair fell from their high position to the floor with a deep thud that could probably be heard for miles, Roland's stolen parchment sliding across the floor.

Ashlyn groaned, but her pained sounds became a gasp when she noticed the desk tipping. Roland was too stunned to move, head spinning. The heavy block of wood the house's owner called a desk slammed into the base of his tail, eliciting a yell of agony from him.

He instinctively lowered his paws to shove it away, but he himself couldn't lift the weight, as though his tail was shackled to the floor. "G-get it off! _A-Ashlyn_!" he screamed, unable to care for his level of noise any longer.

She managed to free her tail that was caught as well as he spoke, luckily not in any real pain, only her scythe-like tail blade having been smashed by the desk. Even under this torture, Roland was shaken by how strong the dragoness was, able to heave it upwards without much effort at all. He scampered away, a tear cascading down his cheek.

Ashlyn hissed once more to keep his noise down – he had trouble with that task, however, and it wouldn't have mattered at this moment in time anyhow. The footfalls had quickened, and it was obvious the dragon outside had heard the crashing from within the small bedroom.

He tried to get up in a last ditch effort to escape – if he couldn't make it through the window, he'd have to use his smaller than average frame to squirm out of their victim's grip – and found he could, but the base of his tail and spine sure hurt and he'd probably be limping for days.

"I... I'm sorry, Roland..." Ashlyn's confidence vanished then. He didn't blame her – they were practically already caught at this point.

"Usually our burglaries are more... _professional_ than this," he struggled to reply. "D-don't blame yourself, we just need to get out of here."

"No, Roland, you–"

"You know, I was actually expecting this."

Ashlyn stopped speaking at once. There was a voice beyond the door, but it was distant, not approaching them. The footsteps had moved on. Roland assumed it was their victim.

"I saw you and that other red dragon snooping around," the male tone said. As Roland struggled to crawl towards the door to hear the conversation better, he wondered if they'd gotten Myrtle instead of him and Ashlyn. "I'm surprised by how lazy the guard's become. They were so _good_ at catching crooks before, but something's made the old guards lose care in everything, and the offices are an absolute mess right now. Maybe it's a lack of conflict. Maybe they're all getting ready for the war overseas. Perhaps that incident in the town square will wake them up."

Ashlyn looked back at the fragments of her tail blade longingly, but turned to Roland the next moment. "He's up the other end of the hall," she whispered. "Let's get out of here. We won't get another chance."

"I-I'm not leaving anyone behind." He gritted his teeth as he spoke. Roland grabbed the wooden handle of the door and pushed it open. Ashlyn gasped in protest but strangely didn't try to stop him. He had no idea what he was walking into. His care for that, however, was minimal.

"Let go of her."

That was what _he_ was about to say, suspecting Myrtle had been trapped by the dragon living here, but it was Drevon who voiced it instead.

Roland walked outside and his eyes quickly met the blue dragon holding Myrtle by the scruff of the neck. She was trying to escape his grip, but couldn't turn to face her captor to blast him with earth energy, nor reach around to dig her sharper implements into him. The electric lantern beside him lit up the red eyes of Myrtle's captor, and the crimson coursing down her neck.

"Let... g-go of me," she coughed, struggling for air. "I... I'll–"

"Wow, there's more of you here than I thought," he interrupted, astonished. For being the victim of their plan in this situation, he was surprisingly nonchalant. "If I wasn't here, I bet all four of you could rob me completely blind."

As he said so, Ashlyn followed Roland, seemingly in surrender. Roland was surprised he knew of Ashlyn, but then wondered if it was him calling her name that'd given it away. The older dragon's eyes met hers, for an extended period of time Roland felt was too long. Then the blue dragon turned to Drevon.

"I told you to let her go!" Drevon repeated, growling. The blue dragon rolled his eyes.

"You don't scare me, purple dragon." He started shifting towards Drevon, Myrtle's struggling beginning to weaken. He towered over Drevon, and when Drevon realised there was no way he could do anything about the situation, he lost the ferocity in his expression. The blue dragon waved Myrtle in front of them as though she were nothing more than a toy. "What are you going to do about this?" The older dragon lowered his face so his red eyes met Drevon's violet. "Are you going to hit me? Kill me, even?"

"Y-you're.. you're gonna kill her," Drevon said in a small voice, backing away. He tried to stand resolute, but his legs shook. He was a purple dragon, one of the strongest creatures in existence, yet here he stood as though he were nothing more than a whelp.

The older dragon squeezed on her neck, blood dripping down the tips of his claws. Myrtle seemed about to pass out. Roland felt his heart hammer in his head. "Do you think I care if she dies?"

For once, Drevon didn't know how to respond to a statement. Tears brimmed his eyes. Roland tried to move, but his legs stood as stiff as boards.

"I thought purple dragons were brave, _powerful_ creatures." The blue dragon laughed. "But you're not Spyro. You're nothing. You could've been so much more, yet you decided this was the life you wanted to live. Everyone forgot about you. No one cares about you. How I pity you."

"I... I-I chose this a-and..." Drevon stopped, the blue dragon chuckling.

"Well, you chose wrong."

Then, he threw Myrtle to the floor with enough force to break a dragon's back. Myrtle barely yelped before blacking out.

"Myrtle!" Roland called, rushing forward to assist her, killing his own spine as he did so. He stopped her from tumbling across the floor, but she was out cold by the time he reached her. He checked his own satchel for spirit gems to halt the blood coursing down her neck, but he had nothing of the sort. They'd all forgotten to bring some in case of emergency.

Roland lost focus on Myrtle when Drevon was jerked into the air, claws wrapped around his neck in much the same position as the green dragoness. He tried to drag Myrtle away from the conflict, but he cried out over his spine and fell to the ground, unsuccessful.

"I could kill you right here if I wanted to," the older dragon said, baring fangs. He jabbed Drevon in the gut with his claw. Roland saw this out of the corner of his eye and winced. "I could rip out everything inside you. I could make you suffer. And you know what? Nobody would know you were dead. I'd have your purple hide thrown over the wall, left to rot and be devoured by the creatures outside Firemore, and nobody would know the difference."

Drevon didn't even try to struggle, tears glistening in his eyes. Roland was reminded of the purple dragon's encounter with Seth, so much that such a thing enraged him, but he didn't allow that anger to consume him. He wanted nothing more than to rush forward and free Drevon, but Roland had a feeling the blue dragon would make what he said a reality if he did...

No, he could only be bluffing, right? Nobody would do that, especially not to a _kid_.

Myrtle was already knocked out in front of him, though, bile rising in his throat over the sickening angle her wings were bent at. If he would do this to Myrtle, then what would he do to Drevon?

What would he do to _him_ when he was done with Drevon? What of Ashlyn, trying her best to hide from the situation?

"You're a thief," the older dragon continued. "Nothing but scum. I remember the day you were born and how everyone paraded around as though you were something special. Nobody remembers you now. Nobody would care if you... _disappeared_." He waved a paw in front of himself to emphasise his point. "That, all because you chose this. I should make them remember why purple dragons were feared in the first place."

Roland was tempted to run away with the three of them in tow, leave Drevon here, but he couldn't. He wasn't leaving without his best friend.

The silence in the room was agonising. Not even a peep from anyone, besides Drevon's soft whimpering. The older dragon seemed to ponder his options.

"You don't want any of this, do you, Drevon?" the blue dragon finally spoke. "You'd rather live, right?"

Drevon didn't answer, petrified. His captor grew impatient waiting, then slammed his back directly into the wall.

"Do you want to _die_?" he hissed. Drevon finally answered with a shake of his head. The monster nodded, then dropped Drevon to the floor and turned away. "Then leave. Get going. Shoo. All of you."

Ashlyn didn't waste any time running from the house, but Roland was bewildered, as was Drevon. Letting them off so easily? After everything he'd already done to hurt them?

"I said _leave_ ," he growled.

Drevon turned and sprinted towards Roland. He tried to ask if Drevon was hurt, but his voice was caught. Instead, Roland helped Myrtle atop the purple dragon's back, and the two ran off together as though this failed robbery had never happened in the first place.

"It'll all come back to bite you soon, Drevon. Mark my words..."


	6. Simply Dashing

Simply Dashing

"I'm fine, Roland." Myrtle winced as she tried to sit up in her bed. "D-don't worry about me. It'll heal up."

Roland hadn't wanted to get out of bed that day. He'd had far too much trouble getting to sleep the last night with his back flaring. The only thing forcing him out of bed was his desire to check on the condition of his friends, especially Myrtle, who'd seemingly broken almost every bone in her wings. Ashlyn had scampered away uninjured, but he couldn't find Drevon anywhere. The purple dragon had been his first priority.

Myrtle's wings were fine now after being mended with the few spirit gems he and the others could scrounge up last night. The factories had always been difficult to get into. Moles took their jobs very seriously. Unfortunately for Myrtle, she probably wouldn't be flying again for a week at the very least.

He couldn't deny just how powerful even a few gems were, though. They had the finesse of a wisened doctor. Watching them do their magic last night, listening to the cracking of bones as they slotted themselves back into place, made him ill, however, much like a real surgeon would. He was thankful she hadn't woken up during the procedure.

"I can't help it. If you'd seen the shape of your wings last night, Myrtle..." He trailed off, shivering slightly. He stopped by the desk beside her bed. He'd asked what was in it once, but Myrtle seemed too embarrassed to tell him. He _did_ have a fair idea, though. "Just imagine every bone in your wing was snapped and twisted. That's what it looked like. I was tempted to take you to an actual doctor."

"Yeah, but I'm okay _now_ , Roly," she said with a hint of irritation. "I'm not in that much–" She cringed at the stabbing in her back again. "–Th-that much pain..."

He shook his head. "You're not very good at lying."

"Well, you're not very good at leaving me alone." Myrtle's tongue was sharp. He was taken slightly aback by her tone. She saw this and put her head in her paws. "Sorry, I... I just don't want you wastin' your time lookin' after me, Roly. I'm fine. Don't understand why you'd want to look after me."

"I'm your friend. I'm not wasting time," he argued. "You looked after me when Seth smashed a chair over my head. Isn't it polite to do the same?"

She exhaled in irritation. "I'm sure you have more important things to do."

Roland was reminded then of Harper's invitation. After the chaos the night before, he'd completely forgotten. He mentally slapped himself. In spite of the doubts he had concerning Harper's hypothesis and prior events, he was excited by Harper's fondness for writing. He'd never met another person who considered writing a hobby. If he had to go for something, _anything_ at all, it would be that.

"You look like you just realised you had somethin' better to do after all," Myrtle said, thin smile spreading across her maw. "Come on, Roland..."

"But–"

"Just _go_!" She threw her paws into the air, grunting as she did so. She retracted them immediately. "Ouch..."

He felt guilty leaving her there on her own, but her decision wouldn't waver. "Fine _._ But I'm checking on you later."

"Goody." She breathed a sigh of relief. "Scram, lanky."

"'Kay, moss-breath," Roland said as he shut Myrtle's door behind him. He supposed she'd be fine. She'd only be sleeping off the throbbing pains in her back, anyway. He definitely worried too much.

"Hey, Roly?" she called from the opposite side of the door. He opened it slightly and popped his head through.

"I thought you wanted to be rid of me..."

"Oh, hush. Has Seth apologised to you yet?"

He frowned. "Um, no... Why?"

Myrtle threw her paw to her bedsheets in defeat. "Damn it, Seth... He seemed a bit concerned after hittin' you with a chair, and I told him he should start apologising. Something about that just ain't him, though. Never wants to admit he's in the wrong, in spite of him knowing it."

"I'll wait until he finds me." Roland wasn't sure he wanted to speak to Seth right now. He was still peeved off about the incident with the chair. "I don't know why he's doing this. He was really nice before. A good friend, even..."

His expression sorrowed, remembering those times he'd spent with the earth dragon. It had only been them before the sewers. Roland had ran from home one night, and after a few nights of freezing and starving because he didn't want his parent's company, he'd met Seth.

He hadn't been the nicest dragon at first; the unfriendly vibe he effused made Roland want to get up and sprint off. Seth had fed him, though, and as Roland started to come back for more, the brown dragon had taught him to purloin the things he desired. A friendship only blossomed from there. Seth had been kind then.

Roland couldn't explain what was happening to him now. Something within him had conjured a fire distorting his personality.

"Are you gonna quit starin' at me?"

His musings were halted by Myrtle's voice. He felt his cheeks warm. "S-sorry. I was in thought. I'll get going."

"Good riddance." She yawned and threw her covers over her body. Roland shut the door. Before leaving her to own devices, however, he stopped a moment, patiently awaiting the thing he anticipated every time he closed her oaken door.

As expected, he heard the string of a harp vibrate on the other side of the door before a melody as beautiful as the celestial moons was strummed upon its frame. It was that embarrassing thing in her chest of drawers, obviously. If it had been any other person, he would be perplexed, but Myrtle enjoyed appearing tougher. When he suggested she might be playing the harp, she shook her head and said it was far too sweet for her.

After she began humming to the chorus, he closed his eyes and listened. It was an old navy song, one of wavering seas. It rose, the beginning of a journey, excitement filling the air. As those naïve souls fell, so did the tune; the few left standing on board mourned those who succumbed to the tides of hardship. It always stuck to his mind, following him down the sewer's corridors.

He was hoping he'd see Drevon on the way out. He must've been out and about today. Considering how early it was, he seemed the least likely to be hovering outside his bedroom, though. The sky was still tinted with orange at this hour.

Harper hadn't actually specified when to arrive, so Roland decided he may as well head out early. Perhaps he could pick something up to eat on the way through the city. Maybe go to that baker he adored where the owner _liked_ him. He didn't have copper on him, but that was no issue for a thief.

As he approached the drop-off into the shimmering waves below, he saw Seth staring blankly into the sky, as though he were waiting for something. Roland would've approached, but after the events a few days ago, he hesitated and a glare settled on his features. Seth heard his feet padding against the stone pathways, though, and turned.

Roland tried to ignore him, wishing to not be derided, but Seth rushed in front of him. This shit-eating grin spread across his maw. Roland wasn't particularly fond of it.

"Hey, Roland," Seth greeted. His tone was overly, unusually friendly. Roland once again attempted to move past him, but Seth caught him with his paw and shoved him back. "Don't you know how to say hi?"

"Hello," he replied, agitated. "I've got somewhere to be."

"Where are you off to?"

Roland sighed. He remembered Myrtle's comments about him telling her he'd apologise. He was still waiting for that. "I'm hunting for copper. What do you want?"

Seth sat on his haunches, licking a paw and running it through his frills. "Oh, I just wanted to know where Drevon was. You seen him by any chance? You are his best friend, after all. He'd tell you anything."

Roland felt his own head scales; the stickiness had vanished, but the dry scab atop his cranium made him feel ill. "No, I haven't." He tried to get going again, opting to use a little force, yet he underestimated Seth's strength when the brown dragon rose a leg and stopped him.

"You're never usually in this much of a hurry. What's so important about stealing more?"

"Look... I was invited somewhere, okay? I need to go."

"Lying isn't a good look, Roland." Seth shook his head in feigned disappointment. "Where, though?"

The red dragon grumbled. "Why do you care so much? Don't you have better things to be doing than waiting for Drevon so you can bash him up?"

"Why would you assume that? I just wanna talk to him."

Anger seeped through the cracks in his attempt to stay calm. "I don't wanna deal with you right now, okay? Get out of my way."

He tried to brush his paw aside, but this time Seth drove his legs into Roland's chest. A spike of pain jolted through his spine. He held his breath, not allowing the yelp attempting to breach his maw to escape.

"Concerned, m-my arse..." he muttered. He rose his voice, fury cracking like a whip. "What the _hell_ has gotten into you?! Why are you being such an arsehole!?"

Everything he'd been able to compliment Seth by had been a lie. He desired nothing more than to kick Seth out of the sewers and be done with him at this point. He knew, however, that nobody would stand up to him. Even Myrtle wasn't strong enough, at least in her current state. Maybe not at all. The thought only fuelled the fire within him. He would have to do it himself.

"Why don't you just leave?"

His comment sparked yet another blaze. The hostile side of Seth slammed into him full force, with a swift thrust of his paw. He wrapped his claws around Roland's neck and pinned him to the ground. Roland felt his back crack again, and the agony of last night flared once more. He gasped, tears brimming in his eyes.

"Ever considered maybe you're the arsehole?"

Roland was dumbfounded. He didn't even consider it for a second. Nothing Seth would say would matter to him. Every last bit was a lie, he knew.

"I do all this stuff for you," Seth said, solemn, "and then it gets tossed into the dirt like it's nothing. You completely forget about me for that fucking walking time bomb you call a friend. That purple dragon is just waiting to explode. How are you not scared of him?"

Roland didn't believe it. Of course, many purple dragons let darkness swallow them, but Drevon wasn't like that. In fact, Drevon was scared of it, that power threatening to consume his mind and soul.

"Even if he doesn't want to turn, it will happen. I'm sure of it. If Spyro had it happen to him when he was old and wise, it'd happen to any purple dragon. Force is the only way to stop Drevon from doing anything. He needs to know his place."

The red dragon stopped focusing on the pain and instead on Seth. He was right about one thing. All purple dragons, whether newly born or crippled by age, had allowed power to swallow every last facet of their personality and replace it with a need to simply destroy.

"F-force..." Roland groaned. "You expect force to stop that? L-leave him... alone."

"Doesn't change the fact you'd abandon your best friend for _that thing_."

Roland had had enough now. His back was on fire and anger rose from his depths once more. "G-get off me, Seth."

"No, I'm–"

"I said _get off!"_ he yelled at the top of his lungs before shoving Seth with all his might. It wouldn't have been enough, if not for Seth underestimating Roland's force. The red dragon sprung to his feet, knocking Seth to the side, panting uncontrollably. Seth gave him a dumbfounded stare.

Despite his gasping, Roland didn't feel like he could breathe. Exerting the last of his strength upon Seth was the final straw for his spine. He was breaking apart, snapping like a branch under foot, or so it felt. Rocketing through his whole body, it was as if that desk had come to a forceful halt at the base of his tail again.

He tried so hard not to burst into tears. Seth would call him a pushover, and then become more violent. It was just like him to injure the wounded...

The scampering of paws found its way to his ear drums, over the focus on his throbbing backbone. He looked to Seth's original position with gleaming eyes and found he was no longer there. The blur from the moisture made it a strenuous task to see more than grey and green splotches, but there, running around the corner of the sewer pipe, was Seth, no more than a mere fleck of brown. He disappeared at once.

Roland was astonished. Had he scared him?

He didn't know, nor did he care, for the throb in his back was more than excruciating, dragging his thoughts back to his spinal cord. He leaned up against a wall for support, but it only helped a slight amount.

As much as Roland didn't want to waste the time of others, he sure was hoping somebody would come around the corner and assist him. Of course, this was the time much of the sewers was uninhabited, not they were inhabited frequently anyway. Many left to be by themselves for a while and steal an amount for the sewers. Nobody would come to his aid.

He heard more paws then, despite his previous notion. They came slowly at first, but eventually quickened into a confused sprint. He rubbed at the tears in his eyes.

"Roland?" Ashlyn spoke. She looked concerned. Who wouldn't be, he realised, when he was standing in the entrance, teeth clenched, eyes probably red from crying. She seemed about to ask if he was okay, but he quickly responded before she could.

"I'm fine."

"C-clearly not!" She grabbed a satchel from her side, emptying the contents at Roland's feet. Two garnet gemstones, glimmering in the soft morning light. His eyes widened of their own accord. These spirit gems were huge! And perfectly cut to boot, creating a crystal of unprecedented energy levels. A rare sight, that was for sure... "Yeah, I know, they're expensive. I stole them from the factories. Seems like I came along at the right time."

He couldn't use such a luxury upon himself, in spite of the pain. "I... I can't. Th-they're too valuable."

She was agitated. She'd put in effort to find such magnificent pieces only to have them rejected by him. "Look, I... I came to say sorry about last night, and I wanted to make up for it with–"

"No, Ash, I can't–"

"Just use the fucking _gems_!" She grabbed one of the crystals and forcefully smashed it against the stone path near him. Roland felt a different pain lurch through his gut as such a perfect gemstone shattered into a billion pieces. They floated nearby him for a moment, locating the area needing treatment, and then rushed into his body through the slots in his scales. He only felt a fraction of the agony he was put under previously as they mended his spine, yet he gasped anyway. The more energy within a spirit gem, the more sudden the transfer of energy. Sometimes it was painful.

Then the pain faded, now no more than a tolerable thud in his back. Normally spirit gems didn't provide such a numbing effect against greater injuries, but this particular gemstone had the power. Any exhaustion from being unable to slumber vanished with his pain.

Ashlyn didn't seem to like being interrupted.

Though, she was immediately apologetic. "S-sorry, I... I-I didn't mean to raise my voice."

He was still exasperated over the fact that she'd chosen _him_ to use the gemstone on. At least they had another. And, well, he couldn't complain now that his pain had disappeared. He'd been pretty reliant on spirit gems thus far.

"It's okay," he said, sighing, lifting the other precious gemstone. "I should probably put my feelings over my lust for money. Oh well. I'll chuck this in the vault later."

There was quiet for a while before Ashlyn eventually spoke up. "What happened, Roland? I mean, other than a desk falling on you."

"Seth's been a complete arsehole lately," he explained with some annoyance. "What he's doing is completely ridiculous. First I learn he's been bullying Drevon – only because he's a purple dragon, I found out today – and now he's been hitting me."

Ashlyn exhaled. "People haven't really liked purple dragons since the first one was born. The Guardians hold a celebration for their birth, and people do come to join in the celebrations, but a lot of people think they're just gonna become the next Dark Master. It's shallow and I don't understand why we can't judge people based on their character and not on something as little as the scales they're born with. Drevon seems... pretty cool, to be honest. I completely forgot he even existed, but I guess I wasn't very old at the time."

"And now he's attacking me for being his friend." Roland turned to the entrance, gazing into cloudless, azure skies. Even the tranquillity of the day outside couldn't calm him completely.

"Some people... They just suck," she said. She stretched and lay upon the pathway, placing a paw beneath her chin. "He... kind of sounds jealous? Scared of something, maybe? Whether it's from Drevon being special, or him not feeling he has any friends, or whatever. When was the last time you and Seth actually did something as friends?"

The question caught him off guard a little. He didn't know. He couldn't remember anything they'd done together in the past seven years. "It's... been a long time."

"Does anyone else hang out with him?"

Roland itched his jaw, then shook his head. "No, not really. He's a bit scary to everyone. He's the oldest and largest out of all of us, and he's never been all that friendly to strangers."

"Then maybe he feels alone," she suggested. "Despite everyone here, perhaps he has no one to turn to but himself."

Ashlyn looked deep in thought. Roland was beginning to wonder if her timid nature were simply a farce atop a layer of thoughtfulness and confidence.

What she was saying made him feel as though it was his fault, though. Because he wasn't being friendly enough, even saying a simple hi often enough. "Maybe I should've been hanging out with him more..."

"You're not obligated to do anything." She looked to him, a gentle smile on her maw. He eyed the ground, then the blue yonder once more. "If he wants friends, he has to earn them. He can't expect people to just want to be with him. He's not doing himself any favours with the way he's been acting."

He nodded and returned her smirk. "You're pretty smart, you know that?"

"R-really?" she asked, as though boggled by the thought of her being anything. If not for her scales, her flushing would've been obvious. "N-no, I'm... Don't take my word for it. He could be anything else."

"No, you're smart. I like that." He was about to pat on her the back with a wing, but he'd noted she would visibly flinch whenever she was touched. She probably didn't like it. "Anyway... why are you here? And why are you up so early?"

"I... I actually came here to apologise for the way I acted and confused you all last night," she admitted, adopting an apologetic look. "I thought I could do that with some spirit gems. I went to your room and you weren't there, so I came here. I heard Seth walk past the little crevice I like to sleep in, too. He's really loud."

Roland looked at the crystal in his paws. He could feel the energy within from just holding it. He wondered just how excited Myrtle would be to obtain such an extraordinary piece, to add to her collection to overload her senses with.

Then he looked to Ashlyn. She had been acting strangely last night, but apparently to warn them all. Odd how she must've already known he was in there by the look on her face when they were outside. "I see. You kind of did seem like you knew the guy. The way he looked at you..."

"Yeah, I did," she blurted out. "My dad knew him."

"Okay. Why didn't you say anything before we went outside? You seemed like you knew he was in there."

She looked to the floor, leaning against the side of the pipe. "That's what I came to apologise for. That one's on me. I should've said something, but I was too shocked we were invading _his_ home. I... I'm sorry for getting you all hurt."

He exhaled, shrugging. "It's in the past now. Whatever. Apology accepted. We'll just move on to the next building in a few days' time, and we'll make up for it... Also, you probably don't want to lean against that. It's had, uh..."

"Oh, shit." She wiped a paw down her side and shook it wildly into the waves below. Luckily, the excrement wasn't damp.

"Literally." He chuckled. He looked to skies again and decided it was about time he headed out. "Hey, I've gotta get going. I'm heading to Harper's place."

Ashlyn nodded. "Y-yeah, you were talking about that." She put a claw to her chin. "Actually... can I tag along for a bit? I'm... just getting kinda bored."

"Um, no," he said. Ashlyn's expression sorrowed and she looked about to open her mouth to send him off, but he intervened. "I-I mean, not that I don't _want_ you to. I'd just be walking the whole way. Those spirit gems might've numbed the pain, but it might just come back if I start flying."

"I don't mind," she said. "It'd be pretty boring walking all the way from here to Firemore by yourself."

"Are you sure? It's gonna be a long walk..."

"I want to come!" she exclaimed. "I want to talk to you a bit more. You're... kinda the only one I feel comfortable around at the moment. Besides Carolin."

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine... We could buy something on the way maybe."

"Are you... you sure you want to _buy_ something? Won't people know who you are?" She cocked her head and looked to the water. "A-and how are you going to get down without flying?"

"Guess I'll have to use my sore muscles." He shrugged. "And it's fine. I know a back-alley baker who treats street rats like me with a little respect."

"Alright then. Let's get going."

He grinned, taking the first step out of the steel pipe. "We can call it a date."

"A wh-what?"

"Never mind! Come on!"

* * *

This was the best time of day to look upon the city, Roland found. The rising sun's golden fingers caressed Firemore's stone spires and mansions. From the top of the structure he was perched upon, the city glimmered a radiant gold. Even his grimy scales gleamed in the light. Ashlyn's shone as though she were polished marble. Somehow she still managed to keep every notch in her scales free from sewer grime.

Flying had been a bit less strenuous than he'd expected. Even now he was astonished by the energy contained within such a small, perfectly cut crystal. Ashlyn had briefly mentioned the dark bags beneath his eyes and told him they'd finally disappeared. He looked rejuvenated, she'd said, and he felt it too. Even for a night he'd missed being able to fly across the city, not a care for even the law that said he couldn't.

He'd only been flying for one reason, however. It was to find a vantage point, for something was happening within Firemore. A crowd was gathering. A distant, rhythmic thumping thundered through the city's walls. He didn't have to wonder for long what it was.

"What's happening?" Ashlyn questioned him, squinting into the crowds. She pulled back a second later. "Wait. Are they..."

"I think so," he said, grimly. "That's a march. They're off to war."

As he spoke, Roland spotted the first set of steel armour step around the corner, a dragon contained within. It was unlike the lighter, more presentable set the guards of Firemore donned. It was bland, yet threatening. The only feature resembling detail was the emblem of a phoenix sketched upon their spine and chest. It was regarded as no more than a symbol to discern them from other armies, but the mythical fire bird had always held a special place in the heart of Firemore's residents. It was a blaze that had brought their city back to life after all, after it was stolen by the apes in the heat of conflict centuries ago.

The first row marched around the corner, like machines, moving in perfect unison. They were metallic copies of each other. If he hadn't known what a set of armour was, he'd truly think they were no more than automatons. They just looked so... lifeless. It was like something wasn't there.

They weren't a dragon in that set of armour. They were just another soldier, an expendable resource. It wasn't like the Assembly, their opposition would care much for the face beneath the mask. The ice dragons and polar leopards of the Assembly probably felt just as expendable.

Cheetahs came after several rows of dragons. They were the same: covered in metallic plates, hiding their appearance from view. They carried E.F.'s, elemental firearms. Each segment was broken up into the element they carried; fire, thunder, earth, and ice. He wondered for a minute if Harper was in those ranks, but the cheetah had seemed too old to be conscripted into their armies.

He then thought about whether this conscription was why the guards no longer cared for him. Did this mean the city of Firemore would be without guards? Sure, he was a thief and was breaking the law with every moment he stood, but with nobody to enforce laws their city would fall into anarchy!

"I never realised Firemore had so many guards," Ashlyn murmured. It wasn't regular people who became conscripts in this case, not like the Assembly. It was the guards of their city. To think there were thousands here, and then even _more_ in Warfang and Shimmervale. So many people joined their guard just to get in on the war.

There weren't that many before today. To think they all desired death on the front lines of Koskos, charging through the Assembly ranks securing the city of Lingrad...

Was war a joke to them? Had the centuries the Dragon Realms spent fighting been completely forgotten? Maybe there was something he wasn't getting about all this.

"No, they joined the guard recently, maybe even yesterday. They march like any soldier, are as threatening as any soldier... but they're only untrained rookies." He sighed. Ashlyn stared blankly into the march. There was this look of fear around her, though it was slight. "They only wanted in on the war. I guess they were in need of new conscripts in Koskos."

"They have no idea..." She trailed off. Roland creased his brow.

"No idea about what?"

"D-don't worry." She sat on her haunches, beating an impatient rhythm into the spire with her foot. "A-anyway, are we gonna get going? The crowds seem a little preoccupied with the army in front of them right now, yelling and cheering like that. They won't notice the _elusive_ Red Rodent scampering through Firemore."

He grinned at her use of words. Even she would know about him and his nefarious deeds. It went to show his infamy. He loved that attention. He wished he could receive it for his other hobbies, though. Unfortunately, there was no way a grimy little rat like him could publish a book. "Alright." He jumped to the balcony below them. "I'll have to tell Drevon about this, you know. He's _obsessed_ with the war."

Ashlyn clambered down the side after him. She shook her head in what he assumed was disgust. "How can you be obsessed with... _death_ like that?"

"Ask the people throwing their lives away," Roland responded, pointing with a claw to the animated steel marching through Firemore. He landed at the foot of the golden spire. He smirked weakly as she alighted beside him. "I mean, we _are_ headed that way now..."

"N-no!" she answered, taken aback. "They'd probably deck me!"

"You look strong enough to hit them back," he reasoned, shrugging innocently. He was tempted to call out to one of them for their attention, but he was able to restrain himself. A glare from the ice dragoness burned at the back of his skull.

By the time they reached the main street and the gathering, the beginning of the vastly shorter mole lines were passing, most of the army having exited via the main gate. There was many a male dragon or cheetah that had a regretful look about them, as though they believed they were doing their nation a disservice by not fighting a war. The fact that so many of the dragons he saw with that look were almost as young as he astonished him. So young, and yet so eager to just throw away everything and die in the cold, bleeding and broken, alone.

"Is it a sense of pride, to join the cause like this?" he asked himself, slithering through the shadows with guile. For never having trained to be stealthy, Ashlyn seemed a master at keeping to the darkness.

"You shouldn't be proud of killing anyone," she said. "Y-you're sick if you are."

Roland stopped to lurk in the shadow of an alleyway, Ashlyn bumping into him, caught up in her thoughts. Her eyes darted to the ground in embarrassment. A smile grew on his muzzle, but he ignored the interaction for the most part. "Maybe killing the people trying to freeze the world over is enough justification."

"Enemy or not, killing is killing, and it's never a good thing." She sat on her haunches after a minute of standing. Roland was thinking, an idea flitting around his mind, a way to make up for the horrid experience the night before.

He studied a mole ahead of him, a stubby little thing, even for one of those mammals. The mole was only a boy, watching the crowd in awe. He did seem alone for a moment, which was worrying, but the red dragonfly perched atop his shoulder was reassuring. The two spoke in suppressed, excited voices.

Roland was more focused on the satchel at the boy's waist, tantalising in the breeze as it swayed. It was only small, but it looked packed with copper, and the boy's sophisticated taste in clothing made that pouch all the more alluring.

"Why are you looking at that mole like that?" Ashlyn asked. A mischievous grin pulled at Roland's maw.

"Last night was supposed to be a taster of what we wanted you to do while living with us," he started, "but that blue dragon showing up kind of ruined your first time. So, now that we're in town, need money for the bakery, and you haven't stolen anything for us yet, how about you try pick-pocketing that little boy? Should be a piece of a cake."

"What? I can't... H-he's way too young," she complained. Roland wasn't having any of it, though.

"He also looks rich." The red dragon leaned his back against the wall, folding his paws. "C'mon, I've stolen from babies before..."

"B-but I...I m-might hurt him! I might ch-choke him trying to pull the satchel off or–"

"You _won't_ hurt him. Besides, you're a _thief._ " He gave her a nudge in the mole's direction. The last lines of the army were going now, and the first dragons of the crowd were wandering elsewhere. "Come on, we don't have much time! I'll... revoke your privileges to the bakery later if you don't..."

"Ugh, fine." He was only bluffing, but it paid off. Seemed she enjoyed food.

She wasted no time in getting it over with. She paced towards her target, adopting the position she'd placed herself in to keep up with Roland earlier. He readied himself to sprint into the alleyway behind him and scale the wall at the end.

Watching her at work reminded him of himself. Her words made her sound like a rookie, but her actions said otherwise. She slunk towards her prey with finesse he didn't see in even Myrtle. Her paws issued not a noise. If he hadn't seen her he'd think she was merely gliding across the cobble.

She wrapped a toe around the dangling band holding the pouch to the boy's waist. He didn't notice, her light touch imperceptible.

Then Roland remembered one detail, a single one that would ruin their entire plan. He was too late to voice it.

"Hey!" cried red dragonfly atop the boy's shoulder. "Paws off!"

Ashlyn gasped, then not a second too soon from the mole twirling around, she cut the satchel from his neck and snatched it away, sending it hurtling towards Roland. The red dragon nearly choked catching it in his maw, almost buckling over in fright. He broke into a sprint, scaling the wall in the alleyway as fast as a spider with jet engines. Ashlyn was only moments behind him.

He jarred his feet with the force of landing, but the temporary pain he didn't mind. Anything for money, he'd always think. He rushed around the corner into an empty street, laying his eyes upon a convenient crevice carved into the spire beside the alleyway. Roland dove into the darkness of the hole.

The faint scent of excrement lingered in the air. The thin outline of a pipe beside him brought him to the conclusion this hole was dug so the sewage pipe could be reached.

Ashlyn fell to her backside and slipped in after him, missing him only by centimetres. There was quiet, apart from her soft, still breathing, like a statue murmuring.

He heard little wings flutter outside the hole, red sparks falling and clashing with the cobblestone. They were bright enough to barely light Roland's face. He held his breath, his heart pounding against his chest...

Why was he scared? It was only a _dragonfly_. He almost scoffed at himself, but remembered he needed to keep vocals to a minimum.

"Ancestors, Averie's gonna kill me," the dragonfly said. It was only a moment before the vague buzz vanished and the sparks ceased to live.

Roland took the slobbery satchel from his mouth and smiled, his voice a whisper. "Wasn't that exhilarating?"

"I..." Ashlyn sighed. "I feel bad for the kid and that dragonfly. B-but it really was, for the few seconds it lasted! I... k-kinda liked it."

"Don't feel bad. I'm sure they didn't need it anyway." He shook the satchel for good measure. Coins jingled inside; enough for the baker, and perhaps a few other things for himself. "Better we get a feed than whatever that dragonfly and mole were planning on getting. Nobody'll miss these coins."

"E-except that Averie person..." She began to scamper outside, but stopped herself some steps later. "Do you think it's safe to head out now?"

"Probably." He shrugged. "We'll see. Let's hope he's not just waiting around outside for us."

She was reluctant to move after his words. Roland noticed her unease and giggled reassuringly. "Don't worry, I'm sure he's long gone."

He followed her outside the crevice, bending and stretching his limbs, glad to stand striaght again. The hole had been a tight fit for even his attenuated figure.

He peered both ways to be certain the dragonfly had disappeared without his mole friend's satchel in tow. It'd happened before, that he'd await for his victim's departure, only to have the prize he'd deserved stolen away from him (and head smacked if he didn't move). Luckily, the dragonfly didn't seem to be around any more and he could–

Shock came from Ashlyn's maw in the form of a gasp, and Roland turned with his eyes wide. The red dragonfly soared far from them, grinning like a fool. "Suckers!" he yelled before flitting away.

"He took my _ring_!" she screamed before blasting into the air like cannon fire, fury in every beat of her wings. Roland took a few seconds to react, dumbfounded by how suddenly the dragonfly had taken their joy and shoved it up their arses. He'd say an eye for an eye in any other circumstance, but this felt like an eye for his entire being.

That ring had been worth something to Ashlyn, he knew. He took after the red gnat and his blue aggressor after biting down on the satchel again. Somebody could catch him soaring through the air. His care was less than minimal, though. A twinge of pain rushed through his back, and he ignored it.

The two hadn't gone high; he felt his tail brush past a spire. The harsh wind atop the wall bit at his face. He tried his best to stay on course, but the wind constantly tried to jerk and yank him elsewhere.

Though that wind easily knocked the dragonfly from his position in the sky. It came at the expense of Ashlyn, however, because she stopped suddenly, unable to locate the dragonfly probably careening towards a building.

"Where'd he go!?" She scanned the skies and the city below. He caught up with her and couldn't help but have a pit form in his stomach when he saw the look of distress on her features. "When I get my paws on him..."

"Ashlyn, I'm so-" He took the satchel out of his maw and tried to speak, but he was cut off by Ashlyn dashing towards Firemore once more.

"Down there!" Roland barely heard her yell. He followed, endeavouring to keep up with her determination. The dragons almost hit a spire with how quickly they banked. He'd never flown so fast in his life. His wings felt incapable of toughing this out, but he soared like his life depended on it.

It was like Ashlyn's life _did_ depend on getting that ring back, though...

He saw the glowing insect charge through a yellowy spire's window, slightly ajar to allow entrance to the breeze. He thought Ashlyn would stop there, but his jaw almost fell from his skull when she smashed straight through it with the entire force of her body. The shattering could be heard from miles away.

Roland almost decided to follow her, but he had a better idea, knowing someone as hardy as her would be fine. Instead, he landed upon the roof and awaited the opportune moment to strike. And he took the opportunity when he saw it.

The red dragonfly, ring in his pencil-thin arms, soared through the spire's chimney. Roland only had to extend his leg to snatch the insect right out of the air. He'd done it before to a dragonfly, and it had worked once again.

The dragonfly wriggled and squirmed, like a fly failing to escape from its demise within a web. A grin grew on his muzzle, but his guilt for starting this remained. He heard Ashlyn panting below, desperately searching for her target.

"Let go of me, you overgrown salamander!" the insect protested. Roland shook his head and hovered in front of the window. He decided to wait until Ashlyn had thrown the plywood desk inside the office into the corner before he made his entrance. "Let _go_!"

Ashlyn stared at Roland in absolute relief when she heard the dragonfly speak. He yanked the golden ring from the insect's grip, much to the dragonfly's chagrin, passing it to her and seating himself on the carpeted floor. He then forced the insect into the wall behind him.

"Ancestors, I thought I'd actually lost it." She slotted it back onto her toe, where it belonged. "Thanks for catching him, Roland."

"Don't thank me," he responded, throwing the pouch to the ground. "We have a little gnat to deal with."

"Look, you've gotten what you wanted," the dragonfly reasoned. "Just let me go, Red Rodent. You two started all this!"

"Hm..." Roland put a claw to his chin. "Nah. What's your name?"

The dragonfly frowned. "Why should I tell you?"

"I'll call you gnat instead then." Roland shrugged. The insect exhaled.

"...Dash."

Roland smirked. "That's pretty funny, Dash, considering how fast how you are."

"I've heard that a million times, lanky."

"And I've heard that one a million times." He laughed. The dragonfly's expression continued to sour. That look of 'not impressed' on his face cracked Roland up. He felt it best to spark some conversation with his victim before he started getting too mad, though. "A-anyway... What brings a dragonfly like you to Firemore? I thought you guys kept to the mushroom swamp and the Silver River."

"I was hunting for trolls." Dash folded his arms and rested them upon Roland's paw. He flicked them off, though, much to the dragonfly's annoyance and Roland's amusement.

"C'mon. It's not like you have much to lose telling me..." Roland's expression soured in feigned disappointment.

"Ugh, fine," he said. How quickly he was convinced caught Roland off-guard. "I got bored of the food-gathering and sleeping back home. Felt like adventure... Most people come to Firemore because they're travelling elsewhere. Except you. You smell like you haven't left your basement in sixteen years."

"Don't have a basement, Dash."

"Who cares? You smell like shit. Like, _actual_ shit, dude."

"Eh, it's not that bad."

"I can tell why they called you a rodent. You smell like one."

"You're hilarious, Dashie." Roland beamed. He then looked at Ashlyn. "What were you planning on doing with Dash here, Ash? You said something back there you didn't finish."

She eyed the red dragon in a bit of surprise, so focused on the gleaming ring on her toe. "I, uh... W-we'll let him go, I guess."

"Aw, that's no fun," he said, almost saddened by her response. His smile didn't waver, however. "It sounded like you wanted to kill him earlier."

"You two stole our satchel first." Dash shook his head. "You both deserved it. I would've sold that ring if you hadn't put me up against this here wall."

Roland saw anger spark in her eyes at his statement. The mere thought of turning the ring into copper was enough to light a drenched fuse for her.

"Don't think she'd have the guts to kill little old me anyway..."

Ashlyn paced towards the dragonfly, snatching him from Roland's paw. The dragonfly's face turned a ghostly white. "Actually, I think I'll gut him, Roland."

"Woah, easy." Roland couldn't help letting out a chuckle. Not like her to kill somebody, even over her precious ring. "Don't hurt the poor guy."

"I'll turn you to paste if I ever see you again," she snarled. "Got it?"

The dragonfly nodded quickly. Even Roland was startled by her hostility. "G-got it..."

"Good. Now shoo." The insect fell to the ground from her paws, hurrying away without another peep, his desire to obtain his satchel thrown to the flames.

Roland finally shifted his eyes to the carpet, culpability getting the better of him.

He exhaled. "I shouldn't have even suggested going after that mole," he said. "I _saw_ the dragonfly there! But I was too stupid to realise he'd ruin it all. Sorry for giving you all that trouble."

Ashlyn actually giggled softly. "It's fine. Whatever. I had fun stealing from the mole. Honestly, I should've realised the dragonfly was there myself. I wasn't careful enough..."

There came a stomping from the ground floor, up the yellowy stairs leading to the office above. A large yellow dragon halted in front of them; Roland could see the fury brewing in his eyes, the demons he was about unleash upon the two of them.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE FUCKING ANCESTORS HAVE YOU DONE TO MY _OFFICE?!"_

"Uh oh." Roland made his exit, dodging the crystalline spikes littered across the carpet and the desk thrown to the side, by diving through the window. Ashlyn rushed after him with the satchel in her mouth. Fortunately, the dragon didn't literally explode into a thunderstorm over anger; rage did cause dragon furies, after all.

He landed atop another spire a minute's flight from the unexpected entrance Ashlyn had made. A crowd now flooded the streets in a sea of colours; the march of Firemore's army had ended, and they now left upon a vessel to confront the Assembly at Lingrad.

Ashlyn lighted beside him. The joy on her expression was confusing, although it lifted his own mood too.

"You look really happy," he observed a moment later. Ashlyn nodded.

"Well, I've... had a lot of fun with you." She shrugged. " More fun than I've had in any amount of time. I know, I was kind of angry when he stole my ring, but I wouldn't have stopped chasing him, and his reaction to be threatened was priceless in the end."

His heart fluttered a little. Being a good friend to anyone was the best feeling in his opinion. "That's good to hear, Ashlyn."

"I just... Ugh, how do I..."

"What is it?"

"It's... never mind." She shrugged. Roland looked into her, her transparency obvious. Whatever was on the other side of the window she'd taken to becoming was cloudy, however. "I forgot."

"...Okay. How's about we get some food, then? I've been starving all morning."

She bent down, flapping her wings. "Alright. I am too."

"Last one there's a rotten piggle!" He shot past her, a bullet in the sky.

"B-but I don't know where to go!"

"Just follow me, then!"


	7. A Phoenix Ablaze

A Phoenix Ablaze

Roland took the last bite of his apple pie and threw its metallic tray to the cobblestone, then studied the slip of paper in his paws. _99 Firespark Row_. The house was far from the central districts where the wealthy lived, and instead lay close to the edge of the wall. Each building was no more than a few rooms inside, large enough to house a dragon, if they were comfortable with being a little cramped. Most of the buildings were built before the wall, their flaws and cracks revealed by age, but Harper's looked particularly ancient, almost like an old farmhouse. The white paint dried over the planks was chipping, revealing their brown flesh.

Two iron numbers were welded to the door, both nines. He guessed this was the one. It didn't exactly live up to the cheetah living within its walls, who he'd felt was fancy, even for a guard.

A hollow ringing echoed through the walls of Harper's home as he pressed the button on the door. He ran a paw through his grimy frills then wiped the dirt from his scales. He ought to be as acceptable as possible entering the cheetah's home, not that he'd ever be as flawlessly clean as somebody like Ashlyn. The red dragon couldn't shake the feeling of fear, though, worry that something wasn't going to go his way. That perhaps this visit was only a farce to ambush him.

He'd had a few thoughts about heading back to the sewers with Ashlyn, who'd decided it best to not see Harper and need to talk about the fate her parents had met, as she thought he'd ask about her father. It was only the chain of curiosity tightened around his neck that yanked him ever closer.

He almost wanted to pick the lock on that chain and sprint far, far from the home, but as he heard walking inside the house, he knew he couldn't. A knock-and-run wouldn't make a good first impression.

The walking was strange, though. The cats of the Dragon Realms and beyond were bipedal, but he could tell these feet belonged to a quadruped, a dragon pacing towards the door. Did he have the wrong house?

The decrepit wooden sign on the end of the street should've been reassuring. _Firespark Row,_ painted messily in white _._ He didn't feel at all reassured he was standing on the doorstep of the correct house.

He turned to make his move, but his time for a decision came to a swift close. The door swung open, revealing the figure of a dragoness about his height. He swallowed hard.

"Hello?" the dragoness spoke, her voice lightly accented. She must not have been from around here. Roland wasn't able to tell from appearance, though, since his eyes were on the floor in embarrassment. All of this must've been a sham. Harper had only been leading him on.

"I, uh... I must have the wrong home." He shrugged. For the first time he hoped his name hadn't stretched further than the market square. This area of Firemore was unfamiliar to him. "S-sorr–"

"Oh, wait, you must be Roland! Harper was telling me about you! No, you don't have the wrong home."

He breathed a sigh of relief. The cheetah had a dragon by his side as well, then. A servant? Adopted child? Whatever she was, he was glad he didn't just knock on some stranger's door.

"So, you were expecting me?" He finally looked up at her. "I thought Harper would come out to me meet me, but I guess he's not..."

He stopped. He felt like his eyes were deceiving him. No dragon could be _that_ beautiful. "...here."

Roland almost squinted to better grasp her image. Her scales shone a radiant gold, her eyes like polished topaz. Her beauty was a crystal cut to perfection, flawless, endlessly polished to the point where nothing more could be achieved. A marvel to behold, a masterpiece created by the most talented gem cutter. He was beyond astonished.

"No, he's out at the moment," she said, snapping him out of his trance. He remained stupefied by her jaw-dropping appearance. He did his best to keep his cool. Don't be weird, he repeated to himself. "He'll be back soon, though, don't worry!" She stood to the side and bowed her head and paw. "Come in. Make yourself at home, Roland."

He was surprised by her gesture. Clearly, she'd taken after Harper's manners. He thought he should've been the one bowing to her.

He paced inside and found it was quite clean, a contrast from the house's poorer exterior, probably the work of the dragoness if he had to guess. There was a long lounge in the centre of the room surrounded by two smaller recliners, cabinets and pictures on the wall ahead of them to eye when uninterested in conversing, and a desk tucked away in the corner with dozens of scrolls splayed across the top like a thin blanket. There was a cabinet full of varying bottles of scotch and antique glasses and bowls, a coffee table in front of the lounge if a cheetah ever felt like putting up tired legs, a fireplace speckled with soot from recent use. The kitchen was further away, but barrels of all sorts were held within as well as an old stove and basket of recently bought firewood. The scent of fresh cookies wafted through the air.

From what he could gather, the home was, at the very least, _comfortable_.

Despite his loss for words over the dragoness, he tried to spark some conversation. "I, uh... d-didn't catch your name back there."

The yellow dragoness gasped weakly, catching up to him with a jog. "Where are my manners!? My name's Tristana, but you can just call me Tris. Lovely to meet you."

She offered a paw to shake. He almost took it, but touching her with such grimy paws would be a disgrace to her appearance. "Uh, maybe not... I'm not clean. Wouldn't wanna ruin those scales you have."

Tris pulled away in understanding, though snickered lightly. He nearly slapped himself. "Oh, I see. I could run out a bath for you, if you like, or I could–"

"N-no, it's fine," he responded. "Where can I, um... wait for him, Tris?"

"Take a seat on the lounge!" Grinning, she gestured towards the couch. He did as he was told. The leather was surprisingly comfortable. By the time he'd fallen deep into the couch, Tris had returned with a tray of biscuits. "Cookie? I'll be happy to serve you."

He lost interest in her appearance for a moment and instead eyed her with some concern. "Did you say you would _serve_ me?"

"That I did." She didn't seem to have any problem with that. Roland could only frown. He couldn't imagine serving even the creators of their universe, the Ancestors.

"Well, uh... sure." He was sure they weren't poisoned, given her hospitality. He nibbled on the top. Chocolate, crunchy, honeyed heaven. They were no less than divine. "Do you work as a maid or housekeeper or something?"

"I _am_ an adopted dragon," she answered. "But I do a lot of the housework, considering Harper's out doing guard and writing stuff a lot of the time... Is there anything you want or need right now, Roland?"

He put a claw to his chin but there was nothing he desired even remotely important, especially not anything from here. "I, uh... I guess you could..." He felt his face start to burn up. By the time he left Harper's home, he'd be only a cinder with how scorching his cheeks were. "...could sit next to me and wait for Harper."

"Out of all the guests Harper has had," she began, "you're definitely the easiest. All the others are like 'get me this' and 'do that'. I don't mind if I do." She climbed on top of the plush surface, a breath of contentment leaving her lips. "I hope you don't mind me saying so, but... you're also one of the awkwardest."

"I am!?" He sat up straight, worried he wasn't making a good impression with this dragoness. "S-sorry if I'm being awkward, it's just, uh... Look. You're, um... Sort of, just _maybe_... You know..."

She giggled and cupped her mouth with a paw. "You're cute, Roland. But don't get the wrong idea. I'm... not exactly interested in men."

He shoved his paws into his face. His cheeks were red-hot, almost an ashen mess. "I am _such_ an idiot... Sorry." But, honestly, he was sort of glad she had said that now. He'd be fawning over her non-stop otherwise, and that, he knew from awful narratives, would at the very least irritate her and everybody else. He found her words in good humour as well, though, and laughed with her as she did, although in mortification. "I'll... keep that in mind, Tris."

"I honestly don't see myself as _that_ good-looking," she said. " I don't really get it. All the guys my age approach me at the academy, and I can't help but reject them all. Some of them can't take a hint. They think I'm lying to them."

He nodded. "Sounds annoying."

"I've never met a girl who feels the same way as me. My brother always used to tell me the right person would come, though. He was a cheetah."

"A cheetah for a brother. What's he like?" He looked at the wall in front of him. The bland white brushed over the timber would've bored him if not for the colourful array of pictures and cabinets to stare at. There were plenty of portraits of a cub, sketched in masterful detail. The face from the market square, when the dreadwing had wrought terror upon many a soul... He couldn't forget that face, ripped to shreds, torn away from their world in an instant.

He sighed, realising his wording was awful. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up... that."

"I was never really close to him," she intervened. "He... ended up not being the nicest individual, especially to me. It's okay." Her thin veil of sorrow revealed a comforting smile. "Just don't mention Pride around Harper. He's going through quite a bit right now. I believe you were there when he..."

"Yeah, I was..." That screech echoed in his mind like he'd been there yesterday. Just thinking about it made him shiver... He wondered if those affected by the fear-inducing screams of the dreadwing had come to their senses again. Harper had said they needed serious assistance.

"Anyway..." Tris clapped her paws together, and then pointed at the red dragon. "Enough about me. What about you?"

"I'm, um... not very interesting," he admitted. He felt it was true despite how interested everyone was in despising everything he lived for. "Just a street rat. Sort of infamous around the market square. Live outside. That'd be why I smell so bad."

She sniffed the air and only shrugged her shoulders. "You don't smell _that_ bad for being somebody who lives out there... How does living out there treat you, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I love it." Roland truly did. It was the best thing he could ask for. He had a deep affection for the art of thievery and the freedom that allowed him to do whatever he so desired, within reason. Firemore was like a seashell to many, a thing to pass by and gaze upon once, and then throw away. But he'd looked deeper within and found a pearl, a vast playground only he realised was there.

With how things had been going recently, though... He sort of did wish he could take a break from it all and stay somewhere more pleasant then the sewers of Firemore. Sure, he had a bed unlike plenty of the other thieves residing within the sewers' expansive pipework, who probably found it more uncomfortable than he, but it wasn't like he couldn't complain.

And, even if he did enjoy his time inside the sewers of Firemore, he couldn't help but miss the parents he'd left behind... He wondered how his father. _If_ he was faring...

"Is it... hard?" Tris asked, her paw resting beneath her chin as she sprawled on the long couch. Her genuine interest in his life surprised him.

"No, not really... There's been a little infighting between us all, but I'm sure everything will be back to normal soon." Or so he hoped. Seth couldn't keep doing this forever. It needed to stop. It felt like it would fall upon him to stop Seth, considering he held the closest connection.

"Oh, so there's a bunch of you! That must make it easier. Where do you all stay then?"

"I can't say," he told her. "Harper's probably told you I'm a thief. You know I'm a criminal. It'd be stupid to give away my information to someone who could easily get us all into gaol for a few days. And then we'd have to move somewhere else."

"Wait, it's the sewers, isn't it?"

Roland felt his heart plunge into the depths of his stomach. It hadn't been that obvious to _anyone_ _at all_! "...How in the name of the Ancestors do you know _that_?"

She laughed heartily. He expected it to be mocking, yet it was only in good humour. "I've seen some young dragons fly over the wall near the huge pipe that we drop all the sewage into. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. I don't want to make your life miserable. Plus, the guard doesn't really do much about children, or so Harper tells me. We still live under the law of the late high king, Spyro, after all. I'm surprised King Amory hasn't bothered to do anything about it. They're _too_ easy on us kids, and all because Spyro had a difficult life when he was young... Weird how they give someone so much power to just change the law like that."

"Kids are treated pretty well over here, I will admit..." Before he could continue, Roland heard the door creak open, an armoured body stepping through the doorway. The cheetah was puffing, as if he'd been sprinting. He removed his broad hat and hung it on the rack beside the door.

Noticing Roland's presence, Harper bowed shortly, then set his sheathed blade upon the desk stacked with papers. The cheetah bled from a mark on his arm. Roland couldn't tell exactly from his distance, but it looked like a stab wound. "I will admit I was wondering if you would show up! I apologise for my absence. Two moles were arguing over some woman, and it... got a little messy. Nobody was seriously hurt, thankfully."

"Harper!" Tris leaped off the couch and skidded in front of him. "Y-you're bleeding... Wait here, I'll find a bandage and some paraneda herb."

"Tristana, there's no need for a–" The cheetah was cut off by her scampering through the house in search of something to apply to his scrape. He scowled. "Bandage..." He paced over to one of the recliners and took a seat, grabbing a miniature glass with a dribble of scotch resting inside it. He swirled the drink idly within his paw. "She's quite protective of me, if you hadn't noticed. I come back with the most minor of cuts, and she'll eye it like I've almost died."

Roland raised a brow. "Well, at least someone cares about you. Plus, it... does look pretty serious. You've been stabbed."

"I suppose... Nothing more than a flesh wound, however." Harper finished his leftover drink and took to pouring another with the half-empty bottle beside him. "Would you care for a glass of scotch, Roland?"

"I'm a bit young for alcohol," Roland said, though he was curious as to its taste. He was wary of Harper trying to get him drunk, however. Even a couple glasses would make a dragon as young as he merry.

Harper smirked, already tipping the bottle into another glass. "I'm well aware of how much a dragon like you can drink. Only a little bit, not too much..."

Roland peered out the window. The sun hadn't managed to clamber over even the wall yet. "It's a little early for drinking, don't you think?"

"It's a special occasion!" the cheetah exclaimed, holding the glass in front of the red dragon. Roland was tempted, despite his disagreement. "Come on, just try some. You won't regret it."

He breathed a sigh, pressure finally breaking through the wall of reluctance he'd erected for himself. "Fine. But I'm not drinking _all_ of that."

Harper only grinned, handing him the glass. Roland swirled the amber liquid around its thin walls. It was almost like ginger beer in colour, possibly his favourite drink, even if his time spent drinking it was little. It was shockingly sweet when he took the first swig, but it burned like poison oozing down his throat the next moment. Half of it came flying out of his mouth as he spluttered.

"It's not _fizzy drink_. Don't guzzle it down like that." Harper chortled at Roland's expense. The dragon almost glared. "Anyhow, I didn't invite you here to sit down and drink. We're here to talk about _dreadwings_ , remember?"

Just as Harper had grabbed two books on the table – one was unimaginatively titled _Elemental Signatures,_ and the other seemed to be about mythical creatures _–_ Tris came sprinting through the doorway to the kitchen, a bandage and some odd leaves clasped firmly in her paw.

She stopped at Harper's foot. "I'm gonna need you to kneel, Harper. You're too tall for me.

"Alright, alright." The cheetah did as he was told, setting the two books down in front of him. Tris applied the leaves, humming a few words as she did so. There was a glow of green, and the scent of smouldering firewood wafted through the air. Old cheetah magic, Roland knew. Dragons didn't make much use of it – they already had all the magic they could ever need, and spirit gems. It wasn't used much anymore, for most spells were unreliable. It was also frowned upon by traditional cheetahs.

As the yellow dragoness began wrapping a bandage around Harper's arm, for the weak skin covering the wound needed protection, Harper put a claw to a page with his other paw.

"Elemental signatures," he started. "We all have them, but dragons have stronger ones than any of the Great Twelve. You should know this. It's basic knowledge. Purple dragons are stronger, even, having more powerful signatures, ones that exude so much power that it can become desirable, tantalising to others, even animals..." He pointed to the other book, a picture of the monster in the skies sketched in realistic, gruesome detail. "Especially dreadwings."

Roland grimaced. He didn't want to believe Drevon had anything to do with this... but strange events _did_ occur around the purple dragons of old. "Are you saying the purple dragon has something to do with this?"

"Not _exactly._ While the purple dragon – whom I'm... pretty sure exists – has immense power, I'm sure the dreadwings are attracted to the magic being constantly produced and used within our walls as well, maybe from the factories, probably because of the many dragons living in Firemore. Firemore is a hub for dragons, even more so than Warfang, surprisingly. It'd explain why the dreadwing went after so many draconic targets."

Roland was about to voice a question, but Tris beat him to it. Fortunately, they thought alike. "Why would the dreadwings be attracted to our magic?"

"It says here..." He skimmed through the notes, frowning as the question was answered. "...that they consume it. They can't use it, but it's like a brief sugar rush. The more they devour, the more they crave. That still doesn't explain why they've suddenly reemerged, however, or why you weren't paralysed by their screams. I'm afraid I, nor any of my colleagues that weren't heading to war, couldn't find anything."

"Are there any guards left after that, by the way?" Roland asked, afraid he'd seen too many leave for battle. Harper shook his head.

"Many of us have been replaced. I, myself, am too old to join a war. So many eager faces, yet all so young. Naive." Harper put a paw above his forehead, almost in a salute. There was a subtle sorrow in his eyes. "But back to the subject at hand..."

"At least we know why the dreadwings are attacking," Tris spoke up. "Maybe we can avoid this kind of thing by limiting magic use... as much as _I_ would hate to do that."

"Yes, perhaps, but there's only been one attack so far. I don't think it would be fair to tell all dragons that they can't use their magic at all, or even as much, anymore. I'd expect your kind to revolt if ever a practice were put into place. It's happened before in the south, in Shimmervale. Only dragons – if you can call them that – live there now. They're seen as their own nation, not part of the Dragon Realms."

Roland shrugged. "I'd be fine with it. I don't have an element."

Harper opened his mouth to speak, but Tris yelled above him, her voice echoing through the walls of their home. "You don't _have_ an element!? How... H-how do you live?!"

"Manners, Tristana," Harper scolded. She mouthed an apology.

Roland was unfazed by the suddenness of her tone. He'd gotten practically the same reaction from every dragon he'd met. An element was often a thing they revolved part of – if not most of – their life around, but was often taken for granted. Some practised it like an art, honing their skills until their work came without a flaw. It'd be nigh impossible for a dragon to accept losing the thing that made them... well, a dragon.

Roland had dealt with that from the moment he was born, however. Sure, without an element, he was no more than a winged lizard, but he had other things to be proud of, like his nimbleness.

"It's fine. Every other dragon I've met has said the same thing," he told her. "Trust me, it's not _that_ weird."

"Hm, you may yet have one." Harper itched at his jaw. "Spirit gems have their own elemental signatures, and are attracted to a dragon's magic. It's why we cheetahs can't use them... Though, _you_ can use them, right?"

Just earlier, he'd absorbed possibly the most valuable gemstone he'd ever seen. A definite yes. "Yeah, I can."

"Then there has to be magic in there _somewhere,_ Roland." Harper smiled. "I'm sure you'll find it eventually."

Tris had finished tying the bandage around Harper's arm after fiddling with how to properly apply it. She took a seat once again on the lounge. "Have you tried any of the techniques the teachers use to get elements out of children?"

"I'm... not sure what you're talking about." A frown crossed his face.

"Okay, okay. How do I start, um... Close your eyes, Roland."

"What? Why?"

"Trust me on this." A grin grew on her face. "If it worked for a bunch of ten-year-olds, it'll work for you."

Harper sat back in his seat. His voice was a murmur. "This is going to be interesting..."

Roland did as he was commanded. Dark, nothingness. If he was supposed to be seeing something, feeling anything, it wasn't working.

"Now, focus. Clear your mind. Forget we're here."

Roland smirked. "Telling me to forget won't make me forget–"

"Shhh..." Tris hushed him. "Focus on the core of your being, the very centre."

He didn't exactly feel this working. He did as told, anyhow. More stillness, a void. The black was cold in a way.

"Inhale slowly, exhale deeply."

In... and out. He felt nothing more than relaxed, though that was possibly Tristana's intention.

"Now imagine there's something there. A flame. Just a spark. No more."

There was a flame, he found. It danced, slowly, elegantly, a serpent entwining. It swayed, twirled, dancing to the rhythm of crackling embers.

"Feel it warm your chest. Step closer to the fire."

Warm. There was a heat there, a warmth like a campfire breeze drifting through his scales. The crackling grew only louder as he paced further into its inviting arms.

"It wants to escape. But it isn't ready yet. Mask it from the world. Anger that flame."

He stepped ever closer, soaking in the fire's embrace. It wanted to grow, touch and burn the scales hovering over it, destroy the one shielding it from view. He ignored its desires, watching as it fumed, enraged smoke billowing in a sharp spiral from its core.

"Don't let it overpower you. Overpower it. Show it who its master is."

He felt he could touch it, let its burning claws set his leg ablaze without him coming to harm. He wasn't afraid of it. It would cower in front of him. He reached out, a claw outstretched. It was soft on his toe, gentle. It was vexed by him, though it didn't want him to come to harm. He wouldn't hurt himself.

"Now, reach in, grab that flame, and make it yours."

Inside himself, he reached further, swiping at the flames dancing. The crackle was loud...

It was unnerving how noisy it was, like a forest caught in a blaze.

He recoiled when the flames bit back, gnawing at his paw. He fell over, and that tiny flame had grown above even the tallest spire, a fiery demon staring straight into his being. Running was futile; the flames made a ring around his figure, growing closer, ever closer.

Whatever Tristana tried to say fell to deaf ears. His mind was ablaze, screaming in turmoil. A city grew out of the ground. He'd recognise the market square anywhere.

He couldn't open his eyes, no matter how hard he tried. The flames had trapped him, trapped him within a city withering, blackened by the undying flames spreading.

Torment reverberated through the buildings of Firemore, a screaming which made his mind burn more. He was caught staring the flames in the face, and they rushed towards him, grasping, clutching claws wide.

It halted in front of him, blackening, turning a shade of deep violet. Two whites points glowed from within, and he swore he could see a face, milky eyes studying his form.

They burned, hurt to look at like the sun.

The fire squeezed, a python choking the last of the life from their city. The screams stopped in an instant. The purple died with them, shifting into the flames.

He was sinking into the earth, the cobblestone crumbling beneath him. The towers fell. Nothing of Firemore was left standing, wasted away. The city of the phoenix, burnt away by its own creator.

And then it shrunk. It shrunk and shrunk until it was empty, and everything was black. Dead. Nothing more.

He could barely breathe.

"Roland!"

His eyes snapped open to Harper's tone. The sensation of burning fizzled away. His gasps were loud and uneven. The floor was cold beneath his back.

"By the Ancestors, are you okay?" Harper asked, leaning over him. His concern was very real, very serious. Roland had absolutely no clue how he'd ended up on the floor.

"I'm... f-fine," he said. The memory of whatever hell had been wrought upon their city in his mind was fresh. There was a dull ache in the back of his skull. He'd say from the fall off the lounge.

"You've hit your head pretty hard. You were... _shaking_ on the floor there for a moment." Harper himself shivered. "Are you certain you're fine?"

Roland lifted himself to his feet. "Completely. I... saw something. Like, I saw Firemore, and just... fire _everywhere_. And there was this dark cloud with weird, milky eyes. It hurt to look at."

Harper sighed and sat back on his recliner again, wiping a small bead of sweat from his brow. "I see... It sounds as if Tristana's words evoked something, perhaps a vision. It's not uncommon in dragons to receive such things, though they're never quite as... _scary_ as that sounds, or even painful. Maybe it's connected to that theory I have about you... Fortunately, they usually aren't true, or at least completely true."

"This is all my fault," Tris said, voice meek. Her confidence had faded. He was about to reassure her that it wasn't, but she was too quick to the punch. "I'm sorry..."

She ran off once again, through the kitchen. "Tristana!" Harper called. "You couldn't have known... Damn it. I apologise for what this visit has become, Roland." He exhaled, disappointed. "I'm afraid we can't talk about writing. You'll have to leave. I have a dragoness to deal with."

"Yeah... That's okay." He wasn't focused much on Harper, more so the fires running rampant within his mind. A chill ran up his spine. Those screams... They were scarily realistic. They reminded him of the attack, lives ended like string to a keen blade.

Roland didn't remember walking out of Harper's door and heading back to the sewers. Those white pupils, peering into the depths of his being. Who was it? _What_ was it?

Harper had said visions were never painful to dragons. He didn't like being special, the odd one out. What if he was a prophesied dragon, like the purple ones?

Too out there, he felt. No, he couldn't be...

Too much had happened now. His life was just being up-ended, everything he knew falling, spiralling out of control. He didn't understand why these things were happening.

Part of him didn't want to know.

Why couldn't it just go back to how it was before?


	8. The Vault

The Vault

There came no end to Roland's tossing in bed. His room was dark, but he could see only flame, the turmoil wrought by the white-eyed demon in his vision. He'd never had a vision before, and to have one so unique and painful as his first didn't do him any favours in attempting to purge it from his mind. Harper's words should've been reassuring – visions generally didn't come true.

 _Generally_ , he thought over and over again, his mind spiralling into a loop of fear. What if it was true? What if Firemore was just going to burn down on the spot?

What if he was involved, like Harper had suggested? His theories...

Maybe that white-eyed demon had been a dreadwing! Maybe it...

No, dreadwings had yellow eyes...

What if the fire had distorted his vision?

"For fuck's sake!" he hissed at himself, internally screaming. "It's not true, Roland. Firemore will be fine! You're not gonna lose your home. You aren't gonna lose everybody..."

The impact it left on him remained. An hour into the night he was still rolling in bed. His bed was a board hammered full of nails; it brought with it only discomfort.

"I don't even feel tired..." he whispered, swatting at his pocket watch and a matchbox in the dark. Striking a tiny flame after five failed attempts, he noticed the hour hand on his miniature clock had just struck three. "Maybe it's that spirit gem I absorbed earlier..."

For the next thirty minutes he sat on the floor with a candle burning beside him, vial of ink by his side. He jotted words down upon a page. Everything was shoddy. His descriptions were a mess, his mind as murky as the sewer's green waters. Eventually, he tore his page in half and blew the candle out with an irritated breath.

He threw his head into his paws and groaned. He longed for sleep, but his mind disagreed. Fires ran rampant inside his mind, screams of the agonised filling him with dread for what was to come.

No, nothing was to come. He was fretting over nothing.

There came a hollow, gentle knock at his door. He almost didn't want to answer, considering the time and how rude it seemed, but it had to be important if they needed him at such an hour. He knew it wasn't Drevon – he'd just waltz in and tap him on the shoulder like he had when he'd first spotted the beast flying in circles around the stars.

He heard a murmur on the other side of his dense door, but he couldn't comprehend the word, nor did he recognise the voice. Who would be knocking? There was a part of him that hesitated before twisting the door handle and inviting whoever was on the other end inside.

He gasped silently. He did know a dragon who stalked the sewers at midnight, and they always stopped at Drevon's door, according to the purple drake. And now they were standing in front of his.

It was Seth, wasn't it?

Seth was knocking at his door, wanting to scare him into submission, pin him to the wall in his room. His gentle knock was only supposed to be inviting, friendly, like he'd tried to be previously. Before he'd been slammed into the ground. He'd unleash his power once he broke inside, hurt the red dragon in ways he didn't want to imagine.

He could swear he heard Seth on the other side, menacingly calling his name. Roland backed away. His throat was tight. He felt starved for air.

His door creaked open. The light of the lamps crept in through the crack. He shuffled away, slowly, careful not to make a noise and alert Seth to his presence.

He heard a step on the other side, and then a slow, uneven breath. He couldn't see him yet. It only frightened him more. Roland didn't think he'd be scared of Seth. The earth dragon had that power, the power to stab his victims with a blade of fear. Usually, he could stand up for himself, but something about receiving a threatening knock in the middle of the night scared the shit out of him.

Roland jumped as his tail nicked the wall behind him. Nowhere to go now. Nowhere to run. He was trapped. "G-go away," he muttered to himself, too quiet for the earth dragon to hear, voice quavering. "Leave me alone. Please."

He shivered, falling to his hindquarters as the door groaned. The light was bright. He had to squint to see. But he didn't want to. His eyes shut like his clenched fists. Seth would pounce onto him. He was mere prey, like Drevon, to feed off of, to consume his fear. Seth would die for it, that last bit of fear he craved.

A monster, like the dreadwing.

"I don't want to die..."

"Roly?"

Roland looked up. He nearly slammed his head into the ground. It wasn't Seth. It was a young, green dragoness. Only Carolin. She'd just been too quiet on the other side. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Y-you didn't answer me... Are you okay?"

He got up, brushing himself off. "Y-y-yeah, I'm fine. I was, uh... j-just snoozing on the floor."

"O-okay..." Her voice was shaking, for whatever reason. Roland cocked his head, pacing towards her. Even in this dim light, he saw her eyes glisten.

"Have you been... crying, Carolin?" It was a genuine question. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things. She was looking to the floor when he opened them again, but the tears in her yellow eyes were unmistakable. He felt his heart plunge. He'd been ignoring a sobbing, tearful Carolin outside his door. Those murmurs of his name he'd heard were her cries for him. "Did something happen? Are you hurt?"

He took a seat to get down to her level. Even if he was short for a fifteen-year-old, he towered a head over her. Drevon would call her his little ball of scales occasionally.

She didn't seem very content with answering his question now, but that was why she'd come. He _would_ get that answer out of her, if it was the last thing he did. Feeling culpable for ignoring her, he was fueled by determination.

"Carolin, please..." he said. He only received a quiet sniffle in return. She was using everything within her to keep her composure, but her resolve was failing with every passing moment. "Please talk to me."

Her eyes were red and puffy. She kicked the door shut behind her. A tear cascaded down her snout.

"Cary..."

Her tears burst forth and she buried her head into his chest. Roland was shocked by her suddenness. He'd never seen Carolin cry like this. She was shaking uncontrollably, emotions boiling over. He felt the instinct to wrap his paws around her, and took the opportunity as it came. She shivered in his grip. Her fear was nearly infectious. He was scared he'd made her sadness worse with his ignorance.

"It's okay, it's okay," he reassured her. "I'm here, Carolin. Don't cry. You're a big girl."

Her tears soaked the scales on his chest. He loosened his paws, fearing his embrace was too tight, but Carolin only pushed into him more, the blunt tips of her horns brushing against his chin.

"Please tell me what's wrong," he pleaded. "I'm sorry I ignored you. Talk to me."

"I..." She choked, coughing into his chest, and broke into another bout of crying. He couldn't help but feel sorry for her, knowing the pain of talking about issues.

"Let's sit on the bed. It's more comfortable than the floor." He walked her towards it, wrapping a wing around her back as he did so. He constantly peered at her, fretting over whatever her issue might've been. She didn't return his look, staring instead into the floor.

She calmed as she climbed atop his soft mattress. She leaned into him as he took his seat beside her.

"Tell me what's wrong, Cary."

"I've..." She sniffled, rubbing fiercely at her eyes. Her lip quivered. "Drevvy... He makes me worried. He d-didn't want to tell me what was happening..."

Roland had a good feeling he knew what her worry was over. "Are you talking about how hurt he looks all the time?"

"Y-yeah." She managed to suppress some tears. The force she leaned into Roland with was nearly enough to topple the thin dragon over, but as long as she was comfortable, nothing mattered to him in that moment. "I... I've heard rumours from the others about S-Seth doing something, but... i-it's not him, right? He's n-nice enough to me..."

"I'm afraid the rumours are true," he said. "I've witnessed it myself. Your brother... He's in a very bad position. I've tried to help him, but Seth only started going after me."

The disbelief, naivety, in her eyes was saddening. As he'd said earlier to Ashlyn, she was everyone's friend. That included Seth, though probably less so. She wasn't scared to speak to him, but she didn't stay in close contact with him. Having to realise that maybe their family wasn't so perfect after all must've been difficult.

"What did Drevon say to you?" he asked carefully. He was surprised he hadn't actually heard it from here. Carolin shuddered at the question. She gulped down the ball caught in her throat. "Did he yell?"

"Drevvy d-didn't yell at me. H-he pushed me, though. Told me I... I wasn't worth anything. H-he said he hated me... Th-there was something wrong; he didn't mean it! He... didn't m-mean it..."

She broke down into more sobs, and Roland's embrace tightened. Drevon would never say something like that to his beloved sister. The two played games all the time! Hung around whenever he wasn't there! They were practically best friends themselves...

"What happened to Drevon?" Roland soon questioned. He sure did hope the purple dragon hadn't sustained anything serious. He almost felt like rushing to the room just down the pipe to check up on him. Something had made him say those things. He didn't want his fears realised.

Carolin shook her head, as if not wanting to speak up about her brother's injuries. He looked her in her damp eyes, though, and she understood it was best she did. Even for a young dragoness, she was wise like that. "H-his eye was black, and there was blood on his side. He must've been clawed at..."

"Dragons don't usually claw at people." Roland frowned. The act of raking at someone with one's claws, though a viable strategy, was seen as dishonourable amongst dragons and all creatures with claws. If anything, he wouldn't expect Seth to get dirty like that in melee combat. If you could really call it melee combat.. _._ It was more fear-inducing assault than combat. Maybe Seth thought it would frighten him. "We're more likely to punch someone, or shoot an element... Well, unless you're me. I just flail at people."

She giggled gently through her tears. A smirk was tugging at her mouth, and he thought to continue. He flexed a non-existent muscle in a display of mock strength. Her laughter came harder this time, but before he knew it, her expression soured once again.

"He definitely didn't mean any of those things he said to you," Roland told her. "He's just distressed, Carolin. I want to find a way to deal with Seth. I'd... As much as I hate to say it, I think you might want to stay away from him for a bit until this stuff is resolved. Drevon's not a violent guy by any means, but he pushed you and I fear what he might do if he... gets to _that_ point."

She obviously wanted to object. Her brother was as important to her as herself. But she understood. She wiped the tears in her eyes away.

"Welp... As long he's okay right now," he said next. "Should I go and check on him, Cary?"

"I-I checked before I came here," she replied. "I looked through his keyhole. His injuries weren't bad. He's sleeping."

"Alright then. I'll have a chat to him in the morning."

The fear in her eyes was evident. "D-don't... _yell_ at him, please. H-he already hurts enough."

"I wasn't planning on it. Yelling at him for you would only make him feel worse." He sighed. Why, oh why did Seth feel the need to do this? Was it Ashlyn's reasoning, that he was jealous of everything everyone else had, friends to share time with? In spite of that, Roland couldn't understand how someone could be so cruel...

Carolin shrugged off his wing a minute later. She looked embarrassed she'd been crying now. "I'm sorry about... all this," she said. "I-I shouldn't have cried. I could've talked to him better... I was too demanding."

"Don't apologise. We all cry, and you were just worried about Drevon." He took to idly toying with his pocket watch's golden chain, wrapping it around one claw and then another. Carolin was focused quite hard on its shimmering design. "He did enough to warrant it."

"I've never seen you cry," she said, puzzled. "I only ever see you happy."

He chuckled. "You just haven't been around to see it. I do have a bit on my plate to deal with right now, like Seth and that person who's been stealing from the vault, as I'm sure you've probably heard, but I try to be as happy as possible. I like seeing other people smile."

"That's noble of you." She smiled. "Anyway, I have a question... Why were you on the floor when I came in? You said you were sleeping, but... I'm sorry, I don't believe you."

He cringed as his mind was finally brought back to the blaze raging through the streets of Firemore. "It's absolutely nothing, honestly. It's a stupid vision I had while visiting somebody. I saw everything burning down and heard people screaming."

"I'm happy visions don't really mean anything." She shivered, clearly recreating what she'd been told in her own mind. "That sounds bad, though. Like, I've never had anything so bad before, and neither has anyone else I know. They're usually happy. Drevvy told me they're sometimes connected to our elements, which is weird because you don't have one... M-maybe it's trying to call out to you or something!"

Her excited guessing brought a grin to his face. "Maybe. I couldn't care less about whatever my element is, though, or if I have one. It'd be strange having one now that I'm used to this. I'm more scared of that vision coming true. I... Well, I don't want to lose you all. You're my family."

"It won't," she said, voice serious, so certain in her answer. "And even if it did, I don't think we'd lose each other. We're a..." She seemed to be thinking carefully about her words. "We're a crafty bunch. We have a way to escape right here."

He was fretting over an insignificant non-issue, and he'd known that from they very start. His mind was just a torrent brimming with far-fetched ideas. He wanted to flee, but he was constantly drowning in his thoughts.

"If anything happens, Roly," she said, a warm smile crossing her face, "just know that everyone's here for you and each other. I'm here. It's like you said. Honour among thieves."

"I... don't think that's what that means, Cary." He laughed. "It means we don't steal from each other–"

"I-I know, I'm not dumb," she intervened. "I just think it should mean we all take care of each other when we need to as well. We might not be as close to some as we are to others – and some of us aren't even here most of the time – but in the end we're all family. And families stay together, help each other through thick and thin. We're all here for you... just like you were there for me. I think that's pretty honourable."

He wasn't lying when he'd said she was a big girl, but never did he expect something so heartfelt and wise to come from her. "Wow," was all he could say. He was rendered speechless.

"What, did I... s-say something wrong?" She'd obviously taken his word as condescending. He shook his head.

"N-no, it's nothing. That was... _beautiful_ , Carolin."

She shuffled in place, claws digging into his scarlet sheets. "Th-thanks..."

Usually he'd see her take a compliment and boast about how great she was, but something within her had changed. It was like she was maturing over-night.

"Anyway, it's a bit late to be out of bed," he told her. "I think I'm gonna head back to sleep."

"Alright!" She jumped from his bed; suddenly, her energy and enthusiasm were back. He was thankful to the Ancestors he'd found the right words to bring her joy. He could write an emotional story well enough, but it was different when faced head-on, put on the spot like that. Perhaps it was just natural instinct. "Goodnight, Roland!"

"Night, Carolin."

She stopped at the door, a warm smile spread across her lips. "And thanks."

"You're welcome," he said, wrapping his red sheets around his body. She nodded and walked off, more spring to her step, though her eyes were still downcast. He didn't blame her. If he had a brother and that brother had treated him the same way, he'd feel just as bad, as defeated.

He yawned and sprawled across his bedding, letting the plush mattress swallow him whole. He managed to lose those thoughts of uncanny, unbelievable circumstances. Firemore would never fall to fire, not again. Definitely not to whatever the misty, imposing figure inside the smoke was.

Everything would turn out okay. He was only assuming the worst because of how much bad had happened in recent memory.

His family would be there for him, every step of the way. Honour among thieves. Friendship among thieves.

* * *

Roland couldn't tell if Drevon was mad at himself, saddened by what was happening to him, or fearful of what was to come. It was probably all three. His eyes were cast downward and his wings drooped of their own accord.

Roland had chosen to walk down pipe D that day – a slightly hidden turn-off from pipe C – that was off-limits for everyone but he and Seth. The joke answer to the 'why' question everyone asked at first was always that it smelt the worst, but Roland found his nostrils were mostly free of the noxious scent that lingered in the air elsewhere. In truth, it was the location of their vault, an unused pipe in a state of disrepair.

Nobody could get in. Other thieves had to give their rewards to Roland or Seth (not that that had happened in a while, what with all of the recent failures). The earthen lock Seth had summoned upon the corrugated steel door to pipe D snapped claws and talons off, and left paws bleeding. Earth magic within would detect interference. It only needed a jolt of magic every now and then to be fully operational. If Seth hadn't turned into the shithead Roland knew him for now, he'd compliment Seth's skill in magical engineering.

Well, they'd _thought_ nobody could get in. Roland remembered Seth making a passing comment on the person stealing yesterday, to which he'd ignored, focused completely on his nightmarish vision. Surprisingly, Seth hadn't shoved his face into the stone and forced him to listen.

At least the thief hadn't been taking much from their vault. He remembered it being a spirit gem or two every now and then, nothing they couldn't replace easily. How they were getting through Seth's impenetrable defence was unbelievable, though.

Roland stopped in front of the door, then poked around inside the lock himself. There was a click and the steel moved forward, revealing the iron canal. It recognised his touch. He was surprised not as many people used these locks. Maybe it was the constant care that turned people away from them. That feeling of energy being sapped everyday couldn't have felt good, but he'd have no idea.

He closed the door behind him. It made him wonder why dragons used elements as often as they did. Mana was a limited resource, like a body of liquid being drained with every use. He'd have to ask Myrtle or Ashlyn or some other dragon what it was like to expend it. He couldn't believe he hadn't asked before.

"So, are you just gonna let me walk in here?"

Roland leaped in fright. Drevon was there, walking beside him down pipe D. He was a violet shadow amongst the darkness in this pipe. "Woah, Drevon. I completely forgot you were still here."

"I thought you'd stop me, but I guess not, bud." Drevon didn't make a noise, but Roland could tell he was inwardly chuckling at him. "And I thought _you_ were perceptive. Don't worry, I'll get going."

Drevon turned, tail dragging behind him, muzzle pointed to the rough stone. Roland felt guilty for not speaking to him yet. That was supposed to be his first objective this morning, other than delivering the valuable spirit gem contained within his satchel Ashlyn had obtained for him to the vault. He'd offered it to Myrtle the night before, but she'd flat-out rejected it and he backed down – very surprising for someone he thought enjoyed a few spirit gems every now and then. He took a few steps towards the purple drake.

"No, wait, Drevon," he called after him. Violet eyes looked at him with confusion, and maybe a hint of concern. "Why don't you come with me for once? I can trust you, can't I?"

"Y-you're... You want to take me to the vault?" It was the most shocked he'd ever seen Drevon in his life. He looked at Roland as if his sanity had been lost to the heavens. If anything, his genuine surprise was proof of his innocence regarding their vault looter. How he loathed Seth for assuming it was the purple dragon... Drevon couldn't do anything right in the brown dragon's eyes.

Roland grinned at him. "That's what I just said, right?"

"But what about..." Drevon trailed off, mouthing the next word, the name of his antagonist.

"Fuck Seth. Don't worry about him. He'll never find out. Plus, we have each other. He'd be stupid to attack us both."

Drevon hesitated despite Roland's reassurance, but he followed a moment later, each step one of caution, as if Seth was waiting around the next corner. Roland slowed down for him. He knew he had to get Drevon's mind off Seth, even though the topic would have to come up eventually. It was more worrying to see him in such a frightened state than it was when he was energetically rushing around. He didn't know what to start a conversation with, however.

The purple dragon saved him on that front, though, as they leaped across a split board once meant for walking. "S-so, um... What did you get up to yesterday? I noticed you weren't here when I got back..."

"Oh, I didn't tell you?" Roland was surprised he hadn't. He usually told Drevon where he was going to be. "I was out and about. Went out with Ashlyn, got her to steal from a young mole, we chased a dragonfly after he stole her ring... Pretty usual day. I did go to a... _friend's_ house after that, though."

"What's Ashlyn like, bud?" the purple dragon asked, intrigued. He was losing focus on his thoughts for the conversation at hand. "I haven't really gotten to talk to her much. The only time I've ever seen her was around pipe C, where she sleeps in that little crevice, and when we... explained sex to Carolin. That was awkward."

Roland had to get her a room still. She couldn't be sleeping outside in the mangy sewers all the time. Even if it was the least of his concerns, he knew she would care if her scales got ruined. "She's nice. Smart. A little awkward, but fun to be around. Kinda mysterious. She's cute if I'm being honest."

"Sounds like you _like_ her." Drevon chortled. The red dragon only rolled his eyes, expecting the response.

"I only met her a while ago. I don't have much interest in dragonesses..."

Drevon narrowed his eyes, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Come off it. Of course you do. You know I've seen that book you keep in your chest of drawers."

Roland nearly stopped to punch him, reminding him of the thick text he did happen to keep inside his chest of drawers. He'd nearly forgotten about it, too focused on the sewers' recent troubles. "We don't talk about that, Drevon."

He only laughed at Roland's expense. At the very least, Roland was glad to see him brimming with joy. Just watching that tail drag along the floor was depressing. "C'mon, if you don't like her, someone has to have caught your eye. You can't stare at that _girl_ for the rest of your life."

Yesterday, he had seen quite the looker. He'd nearly forgotten about Tristana after the vision. He still didn't believe she was at fault, and he felt bad for her thinking so. "Well, I did meet a dragoness yesterday who I... She was, um... _hot_." Drevon was about to open his maw to lay yet another comment down, but he put up a paw. "She said she wasn't interested in men, though, and that was a bit of a turn-off. She was still really nice despite that."

"Ha, you got friend-zoned," he said anyway. The red dragon only pouted, his scales slightly ruffled by the remark. "I guess you're doomed to stare at that – what's her name – Octavia for the rest of your life."

"Oh, Ancestors, I have to burn that book."

"But then you wouldn't have any wa–"

"Shut up!" If cheeks could boil, Roland's would've been. Drevon was practically howling with laughter at this point. His childlike personality could be incredibly irritating for Roland. If he'd wanted to, he could've flipped the tables on Drevon and joked about how wild he was for one particular person, but he didn't have it in him. It was nice to see him happy like this, and it made Roland grin. It'd been a while since he spent quality time with his best friend.

As soon as Drevon stopped laughing, Roland spoke up again. He didn't know if it was the best time to ask his question, though. "What did you get up to last night, Drevon?"

"Oh, nothing happened, honestly," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. It was a bit like he'd forgotten when he put it like that. His happiness waned, though, just as Roland had expected. He felt bad over letting his joy slip from a hundred to almost nothing in a second, but he gave Drevon a nonchalant look to signify what he was speaking of. Drevon understood immediately. "...Oh, that. Sh-she came to you, didn't she? Last night?"

Roland stopped as Drevon did. The vault lay just in front of them, down a hole concealed with a stone block. "Yes, she did. What happened, Drevon?"

"I..." He sighed. "I hardly remember, Roly. That's the truth. I remember she asked about the scratch and my eye, and I remember not wanting to speak to her about it. Then I... I don't really know. I felt strange. I didn't feel... myself. It was unpleasant. But I don't remember anything about it. I just went to bed afterwards."

Roland had no answers for his predicament. He'd heard of what anger could do to an emotionally charged dragon, but he'd never listened to a story quite like that one. "Not yourself? What does that mean?"

"I didn't feel like I was there at all," he said. "I didn't feel in control. I... don't even remember feeling angry at her specifically."

"Maybe you just took out... all _this_ on her," he suggested. He couldn't ever hate Drevon, but just the thought he would do such a thing made him uneasy. It wasn't like Drevon to get violent with anybody. "...Did Seth scratch you? It's weird of him to do something like that."

"I didn't even see him yesterday," Drevon admitted. This conversation was already plentiful with confusion, and his response only added more. "I was just out past Firemore, in the woods to the west. I just wanted to get away from everything for a while. Then I saw a dreadwing."

A dreadwing had taken to him, not Seth. That must've been why he felt like he did. The fear magic had seeped through his blood, a poison that drew out emotion.

"I-it was fucking scary, like you said. It raked at me and kicked me in the eye, but I managed to get away after shooting a fireball at it. I'm lucky to still be alive..."

"I was lucky to get away without being killed, too," Roland told him. "Do you still hurt? We could fetch a few spirit gems from down here" – he pointed to the stone block covering the entrance to their vault – "if you're in need."

Drevon looked down at the marks jaggedly coursing down his side. They were pink with new skin now, but they still looked painful. "It hurts a little, bud. Feels a bit like touching a frogweed, honestly; that really... _stingy_ feeling. I... mostly just feel bad about my sister."

Roland had already reached for the stone block. His muscles quivered and his hind legs shook. Seth could lift this thing no sweat, but Roland had always had as much trouble with this as he did with him now. Some days he'd find the strength within him, others he couldn't move it an inch. Today, it almost felt like it'd been stuck to the roof of the vault. "I-I see. Sh-she'd probably appreciate... an a-apology."

"She would. Do you need, uh... help, lanky?" Roland didn't have to turn his way to know he smirked over just calling him that word. The name-calling never got to him often, but a little more meat on his bones couldn't hurt him. He could probably try eating better for one. His stomach quietly groaned in response to his thoughts.

"I'd l-like that." Drevon was already assisting him with the block by the time he'd spoken. Funnily enough, he couldn't move it either. Roland heaved with all his effort, to the point where he felt like his legs would pop off still gripped to the block. "A-Ancestors!"

"Are you sure this is the right block?" Drevon asked. Roland studied the ground around him, and eventually nodded. This particular block had a small marking, a place Seth had been able to chip into with his claw. It was right in the centre, and after seeing it so many times, it'd become familiar, even with the chipped and cracked stone surrounding it.

"Definitely." He pulled until he lost grip and fell onto his backside. The only person with the strength to open this would be Seth, and... Well, Roland didn't exactly want to take the opportunity to ask him. "It's like somebody's holding the damn thing down."

Drevon exhaled, irritated. He sounded like he'd really been wanting to see it. "Well, not much we can do... but we could blow it up."

"We are _not_ blowing up the entrance to the vault–"

"Get down!"

"Wait, wha–"

He was knocked flying by an orangey-purple streak, as quick as lightning, into the wall opposite the vault's entrance. Drevon's paw was fixed to his head, keeping him to the ground, but Roland was able to twist his head the other way to spot a wavering, glowing sphere. His gasp went unheard.

The resounding, wet boom of the magma ball shook pipe D and almost scorched Roland's hindquarters. The stone disintegrated with a crack, and something heavy fell from the rickety ladder into the belly of their guild. His eardrums rang as he got up, like a metallic triangle was being whacked on repeat inside his ear-holes.

He stared at Drevon. He thought he'd feel mad, but he only sighed, already having expected something of a similar calibre from him. Instead of a shout, he went with a confused, disappointed, "What the fuck, Drevon?"

"You had to get in somehow." Drevon shrugged, feeling his actions were completely justified. "And... we're both not in a position to ask Seth or anyone else."

A smirk made its home on Roland's muzzle. "Well, I guess you'll just have to find a replacement later then." He made his way over to the ladder. Drevon groaned. Roland thought for a moment Drevon had made a mistake, alerting Seth to the fact someone else had been here, but he'd have to confront Seth about it later anyway. He'd known that from the start, and had told a little lie to Drevon. He felt bad now. "C'mon, let's go down."

Then he looked below him, into the vault. The darkness was usually foreboding, like something was going to jump out at him as he descended, but now there was no darkness to be seen. There was a flickering glow, an old candle atop a barrel jammed full of copper having been lit. He hesitated. Seth didn't usually light the candle. He had an electric lamp, operated with the flick of a switch.

"Is it usually lit?" Drevon asked.

"No. It's not."

The glow down there was definitely torchlight. He wondered if he'd left it on, but its tiny reservoir of wax would run dry within a few hours, and he hadn't climbed into the depths in a while now.

Somebody was down there. The thief was here right now. They'd been holding the stone block down via the handle on its underside, and had fallen as Drevon blew it to smithereens.

The light dissipated in a heartbeat, and as soon as it had, Roland leaped into the vault, Drevon gasping after him. He landed in a pile of coins, swiping at the candle and box of matches he knew were sitting beside him. Another set of paws scuttled along piles of copper. It didn't take him long to light the room once again.

In the centre of the room rich with gold and ore, a seemingly endless supply of copper, and most notably spirit gems surrounding the centre, was a dragoness. A dragoness he would never have expected to see. One he wished he hadn't seen. One he thought he trusted.

Out of everyone residing in the sewers, why did the vault thief have to be Myrtle?

Roland had no words, and neither did she. He saw only shame in those eyes, wet with having been caught in the act. Her mouth opened for a second, but she only cringed in pain. Her legs were burnt.

Once again, he didn't feel mad. He only shook his head.

Drevon came down after him, shocked to see the green dragoness standing there. He knew the rules, in spite of how much he liked to play up, and would respect this one. Myrtle eyed him with some surprise for a moment, but returned to looking at the rich floors with downcast eyes.

Roland breathed a shaky breath. He licked his maw. "I... I'm just..."

He could almost feel the tears brewing in Myrtle's eyes.

"Why, Myrtle?" His voice was quiet, slightly tremulous, but she heard him. Drevon seemed to be paying a great deal of attention to her paws, her blackened scales his doing.

The dragoness looked at him for a moment. She looked to find that too hard. "I-I... Roly, I'm s-so sorry. I..."

He waited a moment for her to pick up on where she trailed off, but she took too long and Roland spoke up again. "Just... _why_? I thought you were sleeping."

She shuffled her feet. The copper jingled beneath them. "I... I'm terrible. Th-that's all there is to it. I'm j-just terrible, Roland."

He took a few steps towards her. The spirit gems close to her were evidence enough of what she was attempting to steal. When he realised what this was about, he felt pity for her.

He felt scared, more so.

He looked her in the eyes, picking a gemstone off the ground. Gems they'd stolen from the factories a little while ago. She hadn't wanted to go there now, knowing it was far too risky when imports and exports were as high as they were. So, she came here instead.

She still couldn't find the willpower to look up. Her lip was quivering.

"This is an addiction, isn't it? To spirit gems?"

The second he'd said so, she couldn't hold it back any longer. Myrtle's wall came crashing down, tears flowing freely from her eyes. He'd never seen the tough dragoness reduced to tears. She knew what would happen if she overused spirit gems too much, and Roland was absolutely frightened by that idea.

"You know what happens when dragons use too many, right?" he asked. Myrtle nodded, though he decided he'd explain anyway. "It's not good. Your body won't be able to contain the energy, and you'll... you'll go out in an elemental explosion. You were treating it like a bit of fun before, and I wasn't worried if you wanted a few extra, but considering how many you were planning to take with you this time... You're not trying to blow yourself up, are you?"

Myrtle shook her head, and Roland breathed a thankful sigh for that. He continued to press the issue, though. "You know you can't come in here. Honestly, I was planning on letting you see it yourself soon, but... Well, you've already seen it all now. That's why Drevon's with me."

Finally, the purple dragon spoke up after his name was mentioned. "Did I... hurt you, Myrtle?"

"I-I deserve it, Drevvy." She swallowed the ball gathering in her throat, then flinched once again at the stinging in her paws. She turned to Roland. The regret that just leaked from her eyes was immeasurable. "Roland, I... You'll never forgive me. I'll... n-never be trusted ever again..."

She trailed off. Roland frowned. "Where are you going with this?"

"I should just leave. I'm... f-fucking worthless."

Roland scowled over those words. "You are _not_ worthless. We all have issues, Myrtle, but they don't make us worthless."

"I'll never get over any of this." She stared into the gemstones littering the floor. "I..."

"You've already realised it's a problem. That's the first step... You want to get over all this, right?"

"Y-yeah, but I..."

"Then you can," he said. "Listen, I don't hate you for breaking into the vault and stealing spirit gems, if that's what you think. In fact, if there's something going on and you need one or two to help you get through your day, then I'm perfectly fine with it. But you're going too far with this. I'm not saying that to protect the hoard; honestly, all this is not that important to me. I'm just worried about you, Myrtle, now that I know what you're doing."

"Y-you really shouldn't be worryin' about me," she replied. "I'm not worth the trouble."

Drevon shook his head. "He's right to worry. And I'm worried too, about this, and... what I could've done to you with that fireball."

"As the... _sort of_ leader of you all – and as a good friend – it's my job to worry about you all and what you're doing." Roland's voice was defiant. He wouldn't let Myrtle shrug away his attempts to help her this time. "And as your friend, I want to help you. I'm sure Drevon would too, wouldn't you, bud?"

"If you need someone to talk to about anything," Drevon began, "I'll listen, Myrtle. You've talked to me about everything that's happened, and I'll talk to you about whatever's happening with you. It's what we do. We're friends."

Roland was glad Drevon was reaching out to others. Perhaps all of them could put a stop to Seth's violence together.

"I..." Myrtle wiped a paw over her eyes. Roland took one more step closer, gently laying the claws on the tip of his wing on her shoulder.

"Nobody wants you to leave. I still trust you," he said. "Just talk to us. Tell us what's happening and what you need, and we'll help you get it. As long as it's, uh... reasonable."

A meek smile grew on her muzzle. "I... deserve a worse family, honestly. You all should be mad at me..."

"We're selfish, terrible people. Thieves," Drevon responded, a grin on his face. "We're about as bad a family you could ever get."

Roland smiled with him. "Plus, you didn't take anything of _real_ value. I'm not mad. Now that I think about it, Seth kind of blew it up to make it seem like it was super terrible. The more I think about him, the worse I realise he is."

"I guess I'll... put these back now." She scooped the spirit gems scattered around her into one paw, a smile stretched across her muzzle. Roland didn't think he'd seen her so happy before. He couldn't help but grin. Perhaps revealing her secret had elevated some sort of burden.

"How did you even get in, though?" Roland asked. Myrtle tossed most of the gems into the pile from whence they came before turning back to him, holding onto a few. Roland narrowed his eyes sternly. She chuckled quietly before throwing the rest away.

"That elemental lock ain't hard to figure out. I was able to imbue it with my own magic and make it like me."

Roland nodded. Maybe Seth's lock hadn't been a good one after all. He was happy to have solved this issue anyway, the mystery of the vault thief. One problem down... It felt like hundreds more were left unsolved, but he didn't let that get to him. He could solve all else later. For now, he could be cheerful over this.

The ladder behind Roland rocked then, a weight sliding down its feeble frame. He froze in place after he turned his head. Drevon and Myrtle stared, wide-eyed, at the figure shooting down into the vault. He should've expected it to happen. He'd hoped for a happy ending, but he just knew _something_ would not go in his favour. It was almost a part of him now to assume the worst at every possible turn.

Sliding down that ladder was none other than Seth Simmers. Roland could barely describe the expression he wore. A horrid mix of betrayal, shock, and most prominently, anger.

It took a few moments for Seth to weigh his options. Roland knew the one he would take. He'd burst like a bubble of magma.

"I don't even know where to begin," Seth said. Somehow, he managed to contain his rage, but he looked as if he was struggling. Fire definitely would've suited this earth dragon more. "This is ridiculous. You're _all_ to blame for this theft."

"No, Seth, that's–" Myrtle tried to respond, but Seth lifted his paw and she stopped.

"Shut up. I don't want to hear any of you speak. You know what you did, and I'm not buying any excuses. I want you all to leave. I don't trust any of you."

The look of genuine hurt on Seth's face astonished Roland, but he could only decline Seth's wishes. Maybe years ago he would've listened, being the pushover he was – and, perhaps, if he had actually stolen anything – but he would never listen to that now. He'd grown up, and he'd never back down from righting the unjust. Seth had frightened him before last night, but he knew it was time to fix this. "Nobody's going anywhere, Seth."

"You're the weakest of us all, yet you're the only one who has the guts to speak up." Seth began taking slow steps forward. The way his claws scraped against the stone, his calm demeanour... Somehow, this was more frightening than being shouted at and tortured against the ground. Roland stood his ground, however, despite his obviously shaking legs. "You're brave, Roland."

"We're... not all stealing, Seth," the red dragon attempted to reason. "I just felt like it was time to–"

"No. _Excuses_." Seth _wanted_ to take on the three of them. He wasn't willing to reason. "I want you out of this pipeline, and that's final."

"I-it's not _your_ pipeline." Roland could hardly believe what he was trying to do. "It never was and it never will be."

"You don't have the right to decide, not after catching you red-handed stabbing me in the back." Seth's facade cracked with each passing moment. Soon the wall would crumble and the gathering war within would be unleashed, and they would be the victims. "If not for me, you'd be a cold corpse on the streets. You're my property, Roland. I own you, and property doesn't speak back."

Roland hated that. He despised it. Every word was poison to his ear holes. Nobody _owned_ him, especially not that prick of a dragon. Even if Seth was only trying to enrage him, this was the last straw. Fuck Seth's genuine hurt over this situation. If he was going to be like this...

"You... can't just own people, Seth." Drevon, surprisingly, spoke up. He was shivering, however, and his words came out with no confidence. "Th-that's not how it works. At least, not anymore..."

"Shut it, Drevon," Seth snarled. He paced ever further, like a lone death hound stalking prey. Soon he was in front of Roland, and Roland was sitting before the jaws of the beast. "What do you have to say for yourself, Roland? Why shouldn't I just make you leave?"

"Because we're family," he simply replied. "You don't just leave family behind... With that in mind, I... feel like you've lost yours."

"You are really brave, Roland. But you're an idiot."

Roland merely glared. He couldn't help feeling terrified, though, imagining all the things Seth would do to him. Seth was more than a head and neck taller than him, massive for a dragon his age. His muscle made Roland look like a twig. Those brown scales were almost a menacing black in the firelight.

"Stop it, Seth." Myrtle decided to step in. "You don't wanna–"

"Shut up, Myr–"

"No, you ain't gonna keep on interrupting us," she intervened. Her tail spade swung aggressively behind her. "You can stop this right _now_. You don't wanna do this, and I _know_ you don't."

Seth only exhaled, closing his eyes. It disgusted Roland, more than anything, that anybody could do things like this. He was appalled.

Seth laughed shortly, and when Roland noticed his paw illuminated with green descending towards the floor, he managed to stumble out of the way. Three pillars of earth jolted through the stone floors of the vault; the room shook as though struck by an earthquake. Myrtle hadn't noticed, Drevon had been too scared to move, and they both took the impact from Seth's earthen magic. They gasped around Roland. The red dragon bared his fangs.

"You're going to leave or I'm going to make you," Seth said.

Roland didn't listen at all.

He'd had quite enough of this.

With the others winded around him, he leaped forwards past Seth's second spout of magic, straight onto him. He threw a punch with as much might as he could, but he barely grazed Seth's face. The cap on Seth's fury, however, popped off like it'd been made of cotton.

"You fucked up."

Seth threw two back, the first he dodged, but the second was quicker than Roland could've expected. He didn't feel himself hitting the floor at all. His head burned, his vision blurred with his tears. A warmth oozed from his nostrils. The world was a turbine.

"You deserve this." Seth's tone was quiet, or it could've just been Roland's throbbing mind blocking out the noise.

Myrtle rushed over, even with the difficulty to breathe, unafraid of the onslaught Seth would bring. Roland felt her lean over him, green eyes staring into his golden. "Seth... Look what you've done!"

He could feel Seth staring into him, eyes piercing his scales, and then Myrtle was kicked, hard, off his body. "Stay away from him if you know what's good for you, Myrtle."

She wouldn't take that for an answer. With anger the likes of which Roland had never seen from Myrtle, she charged at Seth and knocked him into the vault's wealth. Roland managed to get to his feet once again, despite his buckling legs.

He wiped the tears from his eyes. It hurt to look at anything, but he was searching for Drevon. In the corner, he found. The purple dragon was shivering, and Roland wasn't sure if his struggles to breathe were because of being winded.

Something was... _happening_ to him. Roland couldn't tell what, but Drevon had never looked such a deep violet.

Drevon's voice was clear, though, despite its shakiness. He was terrified. "S-stop it. Please..."

Nobody heard him but Roland, however. Seth was stronger than the green dragoness, but Myrtle was able to keep far away from any kicks and bursts of magic he released, and Myrtle only returned with her own. She already looked exhausted, though, sweat coursing through her scales.

Roland wanted to help, but he was in no shape to fight. He could barely move as it was. All he had was the option to comfort Drevon.

Drevon was watching the two, his eyes glimmering with fearful tears. He shook uncontrollably. Roland was scared for him. "Stop," he said more forcefully, but again it was to no avail.

Roland set himself down in front of him, but Drevon only buried his head in his paws. Roland thought he could feel magic for the first time, but it wasn't coming from him. It was so thick in the air, like an odour. It felt heavy. Powerful. It didn't feel by any means good, either. It pulled his stomach into a knot.

Once the blurriness had begun to vanish, Roland's fear rose. The sounds of fighting in the back of the vault faded to nothing as he focused on Drevon's blackening body. Dark tendrils curled around his scales. A deep purple glowed around his body.

It was what Drevon had been fearful of. He no longer had the mind to suppress his emotions.

"I said _stop_!"

Drevon's voice boomed, deafening. It alone shook the sewers, and Roland fell off his feet once again. There was a sound, like a pin dropping, and then Drevon burst into a black, violent explosion.

Roland hardly felt the wall against his spine. Nothing hurt anymore. It was all numb. He could barely feel himself there. Myrtle and Seth stopped fighting, both turning to stare at the monster Seth had unleashed.

Drevon was consumed with dark aether. His body was purged of colour, his mind of kindness. This was the power of pure, unbridled emotion. His milky eyes saw nothing but hate for the one in front of him.

Drevon held his own vault. He'd locked it far away within himself, fearing its contents, but now the pent up power had been released.

Roland could barely watch, not because of his pain but because, in some way, he'd expected this. It happened too quickly for him to close his eyes, though. Drevon, or what was left of him, sped across the room in flight, faster than any dragon he'd ever seen. He forced a struggling Seth into the air, and Myrtle crawled away, backing into the wall Roland leaned against, her eyes a mix of shock and fear.

This was the first time Roland had ever seen Seth frightened. Drevon merely hovered there, his paw clamped around Seth's neck.

"D-Drevon... P-ple–"

Drevon squeezed harder, drawing blood that trailed down his paws, and Seth gasped. He could've broken him right there.

Roland panted hard. Seth wasn't a good dragon, sure. But he didn't deserve this. Nobody deserved this.

He got to his feet and paced towards the black dragon. He coughed before he could speak.

"D-Drevon," Roland spoke, in between splutters. Drevon turned, milky eyes staring into his. "Y-you need to... s-stop this. Seth doesn't d-deserve this. He's..."

Roland could hardly speak. He noticed Drevon was staring at his body and not his eyes anymore. He was bloodied and bruised, and Drevon had no clue how to react to that. Roland knew he wouldn't die, but he needed to stop this before someone did.

"Th-this isn't the real you," he continued. "You're kind and... compassionate. A little silly sometimes, but... we all have our faults. And... heh. I bet Seth wouldn't do anything stupid again after this. P-please just d-drop him. As much as I h-hate to say it, he needs a s-second chance."

He'd been thinking of what Myrtle said. Of how he was concerned. He'd only been doing it to protect himself and the people he liked. Somehow, standing there, bloodied, almost unconscious, allowed him to clear his mind and open it up to that conclusion.

That still didn't make any of it right. It was up to Seth to do so.

At first, he wasn't sure if his words had pierced the darkness, but breathed a sigh of relief when the white of Drevon's eyes dissipated. Again, Roland saw purple. He looked to be struggling to contain his power.

"He can do better. We all can." Roland sighed. "I know you don't want to do this. So please just drop him. He's dying as is. He's been... p-punished enough."

Drevon faltered and turned back to Seth. Seth had stopped trying to wrestle from the purple dragon's grip long ago, pleading eyes staring at Drevon. Soon enough, much to the relief of Roland, Seth fell from the air and landed in a pile of copper.

And Drevon soon followed, slowly descending, until his claws clicked against the stone. The tendrils that wrapped his body in darkness vanished, and the bright purple of his scales shone once more.

Roland did his best to walk over, but he only ended up falling onto his stomach. His red scales were painted with a deeper shade of crimson. He didn't know where he was bleeding from, but he felt himself getting weaker by the second. He didn't think he would die, but he sure would need a rest and some spirit gems.

"What have I done?" Drevon murmured to himself. He ran over to Roland after clutching a spirit gem in his paw, his eyes wet with fear. "Wh-what have I _done_?! Roland, are you... are you okay?!"

Roland nodded weakly. "Y-yeah, just... tired."

"T-take this," Drevon said, handing it to him. Roland struggled to crush the larger gemstone against his paw. As he did, he felt the wounds in his body seal, but he didn't feel in the least bit rejuvenated. "Is that better?"

"W-what was that, Drevon?" Myrtle asked, voice thick with shock.

"I... I-it's dark aether, Myrtle," he replied. "When I get... really mad..."

"Let's not think about it." Roland didn't want to let the conversation go any further. It would only make Drevon feel worse. Myrtle leaned over him with more spirit gems clutched in her paw. "I-is Seth still here? I... I want him to apologise. For everything he's done."

"He ran off," Myrtle said, handing more gemstones to Roland. He felt he had slightly more energy than before, but there was only so much these lesser stones could do without him having a proper rest.

"I c-can't believe I..." Drevon got up. His eyes fell, tears wetting the floor. "I-I almost killed you and everyone else. I'm... _dangerous_. I shouldn't be around you if this is..."

"N-no, Drevon, we just talked to Myrtle about not leaving. I'm not letting you, either, because you're not the one at fault. Seth did this."

"I..." Drevon turned, pacing away. "I just need some time to think. I-I'll be back."

Roland was tempted to reach out and pull him back, but he definitely couldn't in this state. Some time to himself would probably do him good anyway. Myrtle sat next to the red dragon, handing him yet another spirit gem. He gladly took it.

"We need to find Seth," she said. "He needs to right his wrongs. He can't just keep goin' around like this if this is what's gonna happen. Can't believe I trusted him to say sorry."

"I know." Roland exhaled. "Let's head back. I... think I need to rest first. And maybe have a wash."


	9. Big Fluffy Ball of Scares

Big Fluffy Ball of Scares

Roland let out perhaps the biggest sigh he ever had. Finally, not one of boredom, misery, or frustration. A sigh of complete and utter relaxation. There was a numbness in his body, and he did still ache ever so slightly from Seth's fist and Drevon's magical blast, but he found it faded with the thoughts running through his mind.

Myrtle had brought him here an hour ago, to a spring just outside the sewers he'd never known existed, so he could wash away the blood and his injuries. He'd needed some help getting there – Myrtle had almost carried him, despite still being injured and unable to fly, but she'd reassured him that the walk would be worth it. And she was _right_.

His back was to the grassy wall of a spring. Water gently lapped at the bottom of his neck, sparkling in the sun that made an effort to squeeze through the thin canopy above. Wind rustled the leaves and the branches, and the stream swam down the cliffside, the faint sound of rippling reaching his ears far below. The grass was fresh with rain; he could smell it, nearly taste it on the tip of his tongue. He was immersed, and he didn't want to leave.

Myrtle was about as relaxed as him, a few metres away. She probably needed it, too, after the incident in the blue dragon's house. She had her eyes closed, her body loose. She reached behind her without even looking, flicking one of the spirit gems she kept behind her into the water with her paw. He had worried when she'd brought a few, but she reassured him that because the spirit gems were absorbed directly into the water, they wouldn't cause the unfortunate side-effects of light-headedness or making a dragon see the colours they were known for. It did temporarily give the water the ability to heal wounds, though, even if it was sluggish. He watched as the gemstone fizzled, bubbling at the surface, until it disintegrated with all his pent-up frustration.

He'd been frustrated when he left pipe D. Everyone inside the sewers had heard Drevon's blast from afar. They were waiting outside pipe D for whoever was inside. Roland had been covered in blood, so it was easy for him to tell they wouldn't let him go easily. Thankfully, Myrtle had helped him push through the dragons, after he promised to explain it to them all later. He didn't feel like he could tell them about the darkness within Drevon, however.

That was just a witch hunt waiting to happen.

For now, though, Roland didn't worry about any of that. He could sit here, relax, do nothing for a while. Worry no more. It felt good to loosen up after dealing with so much for the past two weeks.

A few minutes later, the crunch of dirt beneath paws disturbed Roland and Myrtle from their stupor. They both turned in tandem to the sound, and found a startled Ashlyn looking back at them, half of her behind a tree. Roland raised a brow.

"I-I'm s-sorry for distracting you," she said, quick enough to be nearly incomprehensible, "I was just c-coming around for a soak myself, but now you two are in here and–"

Roland chuckled, and Ashlyn's quick tone came to a halt. "There's nothing wrong with that, Ashlyn. If you want to swim around a bit, you're free to join us."

"Yeah, c'mon, blue girl," Myrtle said, a grin on her face. "It's not like the water belongs to us."

"But I thought you might like to be left alone because..."

"We ain't _datin'_ , if that's what ya think." Myrtle laughed. "C'mon, jump in!"

"W-well, alright..." Ashlyn shifted from her cover behind the tree and stepped into the water. She looked a little tight at first, sitting down in the water, but as soon as the gem-infused water took her by surprise, it was like a tight knot had been untied. Her body slackened on instinct. "Woah... How many spirit gems have you put in here? I... feel like jelly."

"Only a few," Myrtle responded. "But the spring isn't that big. You'll get used to it, blue girl."

Roland looked over at Ashlyn, who wriggled uncomfortably for a second. She had her eyes closed; he thought she seemed tired for a second, with the dark ring beneath her eye, but looking closer brought him to the conclusion that it was an injury. Nothing serious, but her face did show she was in slight discomfort.

"What happened to your eye, Ashlyn?" he asked. She froze at the question. Had something happened to her? "I mean, if you don't mind me asking. It just... kind of looks like someone punched you in the face."

"I-i-it's nothing," she hurriedly explained. "I accidentally ran into a wall. Kind of embarrassing, I know."

That hardly seemed true, he thought. Myrtle was the one to speak up about it, though. "I'm not buyin' it, blue girl. Roland's right. You _do_ look like somebody hit you, and I don't think you're dumb enough to run into a wall."

"Look, I..." Ashlyn sighed. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Come on," Roland said, leaning forward. "I'll find out one way or another. I just need to ask everyone back at the sewers. But it would help if you did tell me."

"Roland, I don't want to–"

"Ashlyn, please, it really–"

"I don't want to talk about it, alright?!" she yelled, smacking the water with her paws. "Can't you respect what I've said!? I don't want to and that's final!"

He shrank back into the depths, until only his head bobbed above the water. "I... S-sorry, I..."

"Yeah, I got punched in the face! Who cares!? It'll blow over!"

"Woah, calm down, blue girl." Myrtle raised her paws. "He only wants to help–"

"Stop calling me _blue girl_!" Ashlyn screamed, lifting her tail into the air, as if to point her tail blade at them. It still hadn't grown back after being crushed into fine dust. "It's Ashlyn or Ash! I hate that name!"

Even Myrtle was reduced to silence by her commanding tone. "O-okay, Ashlyn..."

Roland dared to take a peak at her. She was huffing, fangs bared, looking like she was about to explode. The only time he'd seen her this mad was when he'd thrown her ring into the sewers... He made a reminder never to get her mad again.

Thankfully, like last time, her anger was short-lived. She eventually realised she'd silenced (and thoroughly frightened) the two dragons before her, and averted her gaze to the water sloshing against her bluish underbelly. "I..."

"It's my fault," Roland blurted out; though his voice was quiet, the two dragonesses still paid attention. "I shouldn't have been so demanding. I'm sorry. I'll leave if you don't want me here..."

"N-no, Roland, I didn't mean to yell." Ashlyn put a paw to her forehead. She sounded annoyed at herself now. A little peeved Roland was so intent on getting an answer out of her, too. "I'm just... not in the mood."

"We all get angry, bl- Ash," Myrtle said. Ashlyn, again, wriggled in discomfort. "It's fine if you don't wanna talk about, but you can only expect Roland to figure it out later. He worries over everyone in the sewers. He won't stop asking."

"It's true. I just want everyone to get along." He sighed. What a perfect world that would be. Happiness, stealing with and for each other. Unfortunately, most didn't have such motives, to repel spite and live together in peace. They only really cared for themselves. It explained why not many decided to hang around the sewers, and would come back with some of their spoils whenever they needed a place to stay. " I... w-won't ask anyone about it if you don't want me to."

Ashlyn relaxed her head against the wall of the grassy spring. Her tone came gently once again, but he could tell her nonchalance was only hiding a bit of frustration. "I'd rather you don't waste your time... But anyway, why are you both out here, if you, um.. don't mind me asking."

Myrtle gazed at Roland, a look that suggested she was asking for his permission to tell her. She'd been with him earlier when he'd struggled through the people waiting out front and knew he didn't exactly want to tell others for fear of Drevon being attacked for the darkness. If it had happened to Spyro, it would surely happen to him. He nodded, however. Ashlyn wasn't the type to hunt somebody for their colour. They'd spoken together not too long ago about how blaming the purple dragon was shallow.

Myrtle explained the story quickly, speaking of Seth's hateful, misguided actions and the deep, dark power locked away within Drevon, and then of how Roland was injured and covered in his own blood. Ashlyn shuddered.

"Gee..." she muttered. She took a few moments to speak again, clearly considering what she'd gotten herself into by joining their band of thieves. She really hadn't joined them at the best of times, had she? "I haven't really spoken to Drevon yet – only Carolin, you two, and the person that brought me here – but he seems nice enough. And Seth really needs to stop that. He'd find himself... w-well, dead, if he keeps on going. If anything, I sure hope it scared him off."

"Same," the green dragoness replied. "He needs to apologise. We just weren't ready to confront him yet. Roland really needed this."

Ashlyn nodded, leaning back into the spring. A short sigh escaped her lips as she closed her eyes. Myrtle followed suit and, soon enough, so did Roland. He relished in the breeze drifting through his scales, in the cool water swallowing his body whole, with only the gentle shivering of trees under the wind to listen to.

Roland didn't rise from the water, his maw nearly dipping into its depths. He didn't like making mistakes, especially when they angered people. His attempts to get answers out of others had worked before...

He didn't know if there was such a thing, but maybe he was trying to help _too_ much.

No, he needed an answer out of her so he could solve this issue. He couldn't have the same thing happening to Ashlyn as Drevon. That had already been too much to deal with.

But it could wait. For now, he could relax.

When he heard the trees ruffle a few minutes later, he didn't know what to make of it. It had been calm before. Nobody had moved to make it so. Myrtle looked nearly asleep, and Ashlyn was focused on scrutinising the glimmering ring around her toe. He took it as nothing but the wind, and went back to enjoying the water.

But then it happened again. It sounded like there was a body moving through the trees and shrubs. He looked up from where he was, sitting up for the first time in a while. The rippling of water disturbed Myrtle from her almost-slumber.

"What are you lookin' at, Roly?" she asked.

Roland sniffed the air. A dragon's sense of smell wasn't like a hound's, but he knew there was something there. A dastardly scent, one of rot. It was faint, but definitely perceivable.

He wasn't sure what to make of it. He remembered the smell, but he couldn't for the life of him remember where he'd smelt it.

"Do you smell that?" He got the attention of Ashlyn with those words; she scrunched up her nose.

"It doesn't smell good..." She placed a paw over her snout. "It's like rotting meat."

Myrtle frowned. "And it's gettin' stronger..."

The bushes moved again, faster, twigs snapping. The trio's eyes followed the movement as they all stood. Someone was there, watching them bathe. That... was indecent.

"Show yourself," Myrtle yelled into the bushes, "before I come in there and find you myself! I could smell ya from a mile away!"

Roland squinted to get a better look. Myrtle might've made a mistake, he realised. There was a hulking shadow, but not one of any dragon he'd ever seen. Unless that dragon was a hunch-back, he had no idea what it was.

He saw a pair of large wings just above a gap in the trees, and abnormally large claws scuttled about below. Roland frowned, then his eyes widened as he saw a glimpse of its yellow eyes.

That was no dragon. It wasn't a dragon watching them bathe.

He tried to yell to his two friends. "That's not a dragon, that's a–"

The dreadwing screeched; its scream tore through even the bushes, leaves twirling, twigs flying. His eardrums almost gave way as he scrambled out of the water. They rung like an explosion had gone off beside him.

"Run!" he yelled at the dragonesses, sprinting forward. He realised a second later they were stunned by the beast, their minds conquered by fear. He wanted to rush to their aid, but the dreadwing was already stomping towards him, needle-like fangs bared. Everything was telling him to make a break for it before he died.

He couldn't _leave_ them there!

"Come on, snap out of it!" he shouted until his chest hurt. The dreadwing's piercing yellow gaze wasn't focused on the girls, and instead him. It was coming towards him, claws tearing up the ground as it rushed forward. He stood his ground, but the longer he stayed, the less time he would have to get away.

Water flew in waves as its body hit the spring. Myrtle and Ashlyn were smacked with a face full of water. The pair of them spluttered, but they seemed to snap out of their fear. Roland yelled again.

"Cover your ears! It's going to – shit!"

They both managed to listen, but the dreadwing didn't seem to care for screaming anymore. It leaped into the air, huge wings casting a shadow that blocked out the sunlight over him. Roland barely had time to scramble away from its snapping jaw.

He tripped and sprinted into the forest. Myrtle yelled after him, in hot pursuit of the beast. Roland screamed for her to run for her life, but didn't know if she heard him.

Scales caught on leaves, horns smacking into branches that snapped painfully against his face. He fell into the dirt, tumbling, his joints aching. It felt like he hadn't even gotten a chance to rest since Drevon had turned into what he feared.

He tried to move, but fell as he did. His foot was caught, strung to a tight wet vine. He swung his tail blade at it, but, blunt from neglect and by Firemore law, it proved ineffective. The dreadwing was struggling through the thick forest, stumbling around the logs, snapping its jaws through low-hanging vines. He couldn't see Myrtle anymore, a green dragoness lost to the green of the forest.

He crawled closer to the vine, trying to twist his foot free, but it held tight. In fact, it tightened more as he tried to rip it to shreds, until he felt as if he was being pulled closer. He looked up at the source with desperate eyes.

The plant was holding him tight, none other than a frogweed. As soon as he realised, his leg stung. Acidic saliva soaked his scales. The more he pulled, the further he was reeled in, into the opening maw of the frogweed that marked the beginning of his demise.

The dreadwing was gaining on him, too. His position was... humiliating, he felt, in a way. Caught by the equivalent of a sentient plant, about to be swallowed whole, only to be stolen away by the dreadwing and turned to mere gore.

His gasps gave way to panic. It was hopeless, but he kept pulling. Harder, until he felt his leg might break. The dreadwing screamed a cry of rage. He raked at the ground with his claws to stop himself, but he only managed to pull at grass and rip out ferns.

He released one last cry, rage flowing through his veins, but his efforts were in vain. The maw of the frogweed wrapped around his foot, and he knew he was going to die.

At that very moment, the frogweed groaned, and there was a swift tearing sound, like ripping through fabric, followed by the agonising screech of the dreadwing. The tongue slackened and his leg was free. When Roland realised, he began crawling as fast as he could, leg dragging behind him, in too much pain to lift. He didn't look behind him.

It was already too late, and he knew. Myrtle hadn't gotten to him in time... But she would've only died, too.

It was better him than everybody else. Tears formed in his eyes, caressing his cheeks. He wouldn't give up yet, though. He wouldn't let it just _take_ him. He'd put up a fight, make it work for its reward.

To his shock, the dreadwing merely lifted him into the air by his burning leg. He'd expected it to bite down on him, to feel meat rip off the bone like tender piggle to his maw. As he swung, it growled, and he could feel the creature's breath warm on his leg. Its keen fangs were wrapped around it, but it didn't bite down. No, it was taking him to his grave.

Roland tried to scrape at its legs, but his paws wouldn't reach. He attempted to whip at it with his tail, but he couldn't lift it high enough. The only thing he could do was shake.

Suddenly, he felt the ground beneath his backside. He was forced to back into a tree, the bark almost sharp against his scales, and not a moment later was the dreadwing's monstrous face staring directly into his.

It opened its mouth. No scream came. Instead, a roar, one which he didn't think he'd ever forget. He could see thousands of tiny fangs, like pincers, lining its jaw, all the way down its oesophagus, miniature shredders. He didn't care for the saliva it drooled onto his face; he was far too terrified.

It went on for what felt like minutes. Its voice echoed through the forest. Roland could only stare back, never blinking. His eyes watered as they started to sting.

When the dreadwing finally stopped, satisfied with his terror, it backed away slightly, a glare crossing its features. It growled deeply.

"N-n-nice, d-dreadwing," he stuttered hysterically, unsure how or why he was alive. He firmly clutched the grass for support and almost turned around to hug the tree for comfort.

The monster licked its maw, huffing through its enormous nostrils. It raked its tiny horns against the trees just above him, then its grotesque claws. They looked overgrown, as if they'd been untouched for a thousand years. Dragons kept their nails short, though, so maybe they were pretty normal to the dreadwing...

Why was he thinking about the dreadwing's nails? Wasn't the damned thing supposed to be _eating_ him?

"I-I, uh..." he began. The creature lowered its head to his. Just its gaze was frightening. "I'm... r-really confused."

Then he saw it roll its eyes, as if to tell him he was annoying. Roland frowned, loosening his grip on the grass, now intrigued. His fright remained, however.

"A-are you... g-going to eat me?" he asked with uncertainty. It gave something resembling a shrug. Either that meant it didn't know yet, or it didn't want to. He hoped it was the latter, but he had yet another question to ask. "Can you... understand me?"

This time, it cocked his head. Maybe it didn't know what he was talking about, but it did seem to understand some words. It responded differently to him saying he was confused.

"Confused... D-do you know what that means?"

It rolled its eyes again, this time in more exaggeration. Maybe it thought he was still confused. Which he was. It should've ripped him to bloody shreds by this point, but it did no such thing. The previous dreadwing, slain by a distraught Harper, hadn't even hesitated in killing everyone on sight.

"You m-might not understand this... But w-why _haven't_ you killed me yet?"

It angled its head again, letting out a deep, guttural sound, as if it were concerned. He said the word 'kill' once again, and was this time responded to with a shake of its head.

So, it understood some words. He was confused as to where its knowledge came from... That is, if it was actually responding properly to him and not just making strange gestures over whatever he said. He hadn't ever seen a wild animal so responsive before, though.

"Understand?" he asked. It cocked its head once more. He tried again with different words. "Comprehend? Discern? _Recognise_?"

It _did_ seem to recognise that. It nodded quickly, almost happily. His creased brow only lowered.

"Recognise... me?"

It nodded its head again. Yes, it was saying. _Yes_. He was in total awe. Both over the fact the thing knew him and could comprehend him, and that it still hadn't eaten him alive.

"Wow..." Roland shook his head. "Am I dead and just dreaming all this somehow? This is... _bizarre._ "

The dreadwing had no response to that question, and he didn't expect it to. He got to his feet and looked at the beast with eyes closer than before. The yellow gaze, the matted grey fur that stuck despite the breeze, blue spotted skin torn by scars and wrinkled slightly by age... It all seemed real enough. He could hear its low thrumming from this distance.

"That must be why you haven't eaten me," he thought out loud. "Y-you... know who I am. But _how_?"

He'd probably never find out. It might've been that it had seen him someday and liked him, but what in the name of the Ancestors were the chances of that? He'd been doomed, yet by no more than a miracle this dreadwing _hadn't_ wanted to devour him. The Ancestors above were smiling upon him.

"What words do you know?" he asked himself, putting a claw to his chin. "Um... Attack?"

When he said it, he had the passing thought that it'd swipe straight at him, gut him, but instead it searched for a target, scanning the forest with its perceptive eyes. The only creature in sight was a small bird pecking at the tree behind them for critters scampering about inside. It was pretty cute. And when the dreadwing took note of it, it growled and instantly took off into the skies, shaking the forest floor.

Roland backed away from the tree, watching as the branch was obliterated under the fury of the dreadwing. The bird turned from little white beauty to red mush in a second, and was gobbled up by the monster moments after. It didn't even have to chew; its claws played the role of its teeth in that exchange.

"W-well, that was... unexpected..."

The dreadwing did something akin to a coo, relishing in the taste of gore. He was sickened, but also fascinated. Not only did it understand him, it would also listen to his commands. It was apparent now that it didn't want to hurt him, and instead desired his presence. 'Why' was beyond him. He was just happy he wasn't that bird.

"What else do you understand?" he questioned, a little more confidently. He spoke the first few words that came to mind, none of which had any effect. "Shake my paw? Roll over? Backflip?"

So, it didn't know any tricks. He said the next word that came to him. "Hug?"

He wasn't prepared for it at all. The dreadwing looked down at him, and charged straight into him. He thought it would hurt, but the creature was astonishingly soft. He was forced once again into the tree, and then the dreadwing lowered itself onto him, its hairy back right below his jaw. It closed its eyes and laid there, wriggling until it was comfortable.

"I-I-I, uh..." Roland didn't know where to place his paws, raising them into the sky. He eventually just decided to gingerly lay them atop the fur of the beast. "You, uh... s-smell really bad, but this is... cute, I guess?"

It was like a huge, winged, terrifying pet dog. He didn't know how to feel about this. It didn't feel bad by any means, though. Just _weird._ Not that he had a reason to complain, of course. This murderous animal hadn't ripped out his brain for dinner yet, and that was good in his books.

In fact, he would go so far as to say its body would make a good place to sleep. Its soft vibrating breaths were comforting, in a sense.

He squeezed its backside gently with his paws. It hummed in pleasure. Now he knew it liked being massaged. He did that for several minutes. When he heard it purr, he couldn't help but chuckle lightly.

"What a strange, strange creature you are..."

" _Roland_!"

Myrtle's voice shocked him out of his trance. The dreadwing shifted and looked up at the green dragoness, then leaped from his body and to its feet, seething with anger that it'd been disturbed.

"I'll kill you, you fucking monster!"

The dreadwing screamed just as Roland covered his ear-holes, yet Myrtle resisted the effects of the paralysis it rendered others under. She sprinted forward, a fierce battle cry frightening the bewildered red dragon on the ground. Before she could do anything rash, he leaped straight over the top of the dreadwing and in front of her

"Stop!"

Myrtle skidded to a halt as soon as she noticed him. Her face was bare inches from his, eyes widened. She couldn't seem to believe he hadn't been turned to bloody pulp.

"I... W-what?"

"I'm A-OK." He put a paw up. "I'm still here. I haven't been eaten yet."

"You're not... The dreadwing, it's right... What?"

The dreadwing behind him growled in response, not daring to attack while Roland was in front and could possibly be injured. He turned around and smiled.

"It's fine. They're my friends." The dreadwing didn't understand his usage of multiple words again, angling its head. "Friend," Roland said, pointing to the green dragoness. It'd hunched over to attack her, but it stood straighter now. It didn't seem very impressed that it had been yelled at, though.

"Y-you know this thing?" Myrtle asked. "I thought it killed you Roland!"

"You definitely sounded like you thought so," he remarked. She seemed a little embarrassed she'd gotten emotional over nothing now. "You had every right to be angry." He grinned. "It must've looked like it was feasting on me from over there."

"I saw red and the dreadwing and I thought you were..." She sighed. "Whatever. At least you're okay. But you didn't answer my first question."

"No, I... don't know it. It does seem to know me, though. I don't know how, and I'm still trying to get over it." He looked back at it. It seemed impatient with Myrtle, like it wanted to eat her anyway. For some reason, it felt the need to also respect Roland's wishes. "I don't really know what's happening. After watching one of them kill so many, this one was just... friendly with me, and I have no clue why. It just wanted me to stop for it, and it seemed a little angry when I got caught by a frogweed."

She looked behind him, staring into the beast's yellow eyes. As it looked at her, it glared. She didn't back down, though, staring back. "Your dog's scary, Roland. It also smells. But as long as you ain't hurt."

"My leg stings a bit, and I've been cut by the branches a few times, but I'm otherwise fine," he said. "Where's Ashlyn? Did she follow you?"

"Here," Ashlyn said, walking through the bushes. She hadn't noticed the monster standing there menacingly behind him when she walked in. The dragoness took three steps back and her jaw dropped. "What the–"

"Friend," Roland said again as it growled at her appearance. It almost seemed disappointed by that, but it sniffed at her scent curiously as she took a step forward. It rolled its eyes and looked back to Roland. "I'll... explain when we head back, Ashlyn. I think we should get going."

The dreadwing didn't like the sound of that. It whimpered, and that made Roland feel bad somehow. It must've heard the phrase before. "Yes. We're... leaving," he said. It looked down as he said so, as if unsatisfied with how long it'd been able to be near him.

Roland was still slightly scared of what it might do, but that fear had mostly worn off. Now, he felt only sad that he had to leave it there. He thought it knew that attempting to get into the city would get it killed, just like the other had. Maybe it'd been watching the whole thing.

"Do you have a name?" he asked. "Just so I don't have to keep calling you _dreadwing_."

It may not have recognised all of that, but the word 'name' definitely stuck out to it. It got closer and raised its head so its large stumpy neck was visible beneath its fur. Roland hadn't noticed before, but there was a necklace beaded with sapphire around its neck, and below it was a tiny stone tag. He wondered who'd made it for the beast. He took it in his paw and scrutinised the miniature rough letters scraped into it.

"...Bone Grinder," he said slowly. "It, uh... definitely suits you. Are you a boy?"

It – he, Roland corrected himself – nodded at that.

"I think we should get a move on before it attacks us, Roly," Myrtle suggested after a moment of silence, eyeing it suspiciously. "I ain't trustin' a wild animal."

"Sh-she's right." Ashlyn shrugged. She still looked bewildered. "I kind of want to get back now. I'm a little scared of that dreadwing."

Roland nodded. "Yep." He looked back at Bone Grinder, who wore perhaps the most depressing face he'd ever seen. "I'll come back. You've... made me _really_ curious. As long as you promise not to eat me."

"You can't be serious, Roland." Myrtle looked at him with a mixture of concern and loathing for Bone Grinder. "That thing's a dangerous animal!"

Bone Grinder couldn't look any happier at his response, though.

"I'll tell you all about him when we're walking back. C'mon."

He constantly wondered on the way back, after talking through his bizarre experience with Bone Grinder the dreadwing. Why did he like him? He had absolutely no reason to. He'd bonded with Roland like _that._ A mere click of the fingers would be too slow to describe it.

Where had he come from? What was his purpose?

That sapphire necklace wasn't his...

Who did Bone Grinder belong to?


	10. Stolen Away

Stolen Away

As they got back from the spring, Roland's joints started aching again, much to his annoyance. He could fly easily enough, but the pain made it not worth it. He didn't think he'd be doing anything intensive for a while.

But hey, he'd made a new _friend_ in the form of a dreadwing. He couldn't complain. At least he hadn't been ground into little pieces by the thousands of fangs lining Bone Grinder's mouth. He'd never seen so many pointy bits on anything before. It freaked him out.

He alighted on the stone, the entrance to the sewers, with Ashlyn right behind him. Myrtle hadn't been very supportive of the idea that Roland wanted to see the dreadwing again, out of pure curiosity, and had left for the city a little vexed. Roland was sure Bone Grinder wouldn't just attack him the next time he came back, though. Why would he listen to him then and not later? The dreadwing had hugged him, for crying out loud!

Meanwhile, Ashlyn didn't have anything to add, and only followed in contemplative silence. Sure, naturally, they'd disagree with his intentions, but he was far too excited by the prospect of this friendly beast. Roland knew he was being far too trusting of Bone Grinder, but there would only be one way to find out if he truly wasn't aggressive towards him.

The more he thought on it, the more excited he became. Strangely, it brought back memories of asking his parents for a pet bird. One day, he'd just been so fascinated by the little critters – he'd made a little nest (although shoddy) and everything for one. He kept asking and asking, yet his parents only declined. His father seemed to have all the power in the decision. He was the one who kept saying it was too much work. His mum agreed nonchalantly, too focused on her own thoughts to care.

He didn't really think he could compare the dreadwing to a pet, though. Bone Grinder was a huge, aggressive, feral beast, with a gullet full of needles and talons that ripped through flesh like thin parchment. The name definitely did him justice. That just made him want to look into dreadwings in spite of the terror, though. He wasn't exactly sure how much information he'd find, especially since the library wouldn't let the infamous Red Rodent wander inside, but he would definitely try.

As he walked down the halls of the sewers, he was reminded of the attack again in the market square. That dreadwing had ripped everything to shreds. This one could so easily pick him up and turn him to paste... He shivered at the thought, but he remained excited. It was too strange to just be a coincidence. The dreadwing only liked _him_. Why was that?

Was Harper right about him being connected somehow to all this? Maybe it was the lack of an element that made the dreadwing passive towards him. They loved the taste of them, apparently. Maybe it didn't go on a frenzy when it couldn't sense it. And, again, the dreadwing had listened to and _hugged him._

Bone Grinder had seemed angry when he ran off, too. Maybe he'd been looking for the red dragon, and was furious his objective had tried to flee from him.

But that would connect Roland somehow to all this. And he didn't want that. It was just too coincidental.

He didn't like feeling special...

"You seem very focused on your thoughts, Roland," Ashlyn said a bit later. "Is it... m-me? I-I'm sorry for yelling, I just have a bad temper and–"

"No, I'm thinking about Bone Grinder, Ashlyn." Roland stopped at the little crevice Ashlyn called her room. It barely had enough room for her. She didn't realise it, but he'd been leading her over this way for a reason. "He's got me real confused."

"Roland, I... really think you should just forget about it." Her eyes were apologetic. Roland shook his head, but she kept going anyway. "I-it's a wild animal. You can't just trust it so easily. What if it hurts you, or worse? It could've so easily done that when you were there. You're extremely lucky."

She almost sounded like a worried mother when she put it that way.

"I can't just forget about it, Ashlyn. There's been too many weird things happening lately, and I'm desperate for answers. And the only lead I've got for any of the bullshit happening is that dreadwing."

"Look, Roland, I... I don't want you to get hurt," she exclaimed.

Roland just smiled.

"It's cute you're worried about my well-being."

She tensed up at that one, and she seemed to realise she did. She'd gotten attached to these sewers pretty quickly.

"But seriously, don't worry. I'm just another dumb thief. What's it to the world if they lose someone so insignificant? People die everyday."

"Th-that's a _horrible_ thing to say!" She looked at him with more concern than he'd ever seen in a dragon's eyes. He didn't feel _that_ important, but Ashlyn seemed to think he was insane for uttering such a thing. "You matter just as much as anyone else, Roland. Don't let anybody _ever_ tell you otherwise."

"Eh... maybe that was little over the top," he said, shrugging. "Anyway, enough of that. I've been wanting to talk to you about _this_ for a while." He gestured towards the hole in the wall. "You need to get out of that hole. You need a room."

"I-I thought all the rooms were taken after looking at them all. They're all furnished differently and all feel really personal. I thought I'd be doing everyone a service by not taking their beds."

"Pfft, there's hardly anyone here most of the time." Roland laughed. "They come back to drop off goodies for us every now and then, and sleep a little, but otherwise they don't stay here. You _cannot_ sleep in that hole and be comfortable. If someone comes back and screams at you for taking their room, tell them to direct themselves to me. I'll give them a piece of my mind."

"B-but that feels really rude..." She looked to the floor.

How polite that she'd rather everyone be comfortable. She was being way too polite to the people that weren't even here, however.

"Listen, it's probably more comfortable out on the streets than in that tiny gap." He would've been stern, but making Ashlyn mad wasn't on the table. "We're finding you a room. Come o–"

"Rolan'!" a voice called. He turned to the interruption. It was that kid who'd been trying to thieve Carolin's plush cheetah a while back. He was one of the only people Roland didn't know the name of down here, despite being here most of the time; he'd just never bothered to ask. The little fire-breather had Carolin's toy held in his claws. "P-please! Help! S-someone h-hurt her, and–"

"Woah, slow down." Roland knelt down to get on his level. The dragon's orange eyes were shining with tears. "What happened? Who was hurt?"

"Carolin!" he exclaimed, thrusting his wings straight into the air. "Sh-she–"

Roland swallowed hard. Who in their right mind would...

Oh no. He _didn't..._

Not after everything before. Not now. Not _her_...

Roland got up, gaze stormy. He breathed, but it came out hitched.

"Where is she now?"

"J-just around the corner, she–"

"Thanks." Without another word, he stormed forward, barely able to keep his anger contained. The strings on his growing resentment for Seth had been pulled too far. The cords had snapped. His chest burned with a volatile rage.

Seth had already gone too far with Drevon. But this was irredeemable. Roland wouldn't take this anymore.

He was done with it. And so was Seth. That brown dragon was no more in his eyes. His scales were as dark as his heart.

Before, he'd been willing to accept an apology. But now, that would no longer cut it.

It was time for Seth to leave.

Roland turned down the corner. He hardly noticed Ashlyn behind him, trying to grab his attention.

"Roland, y-you need to stop! Seth's stronger than–"

"I have had _enough_ of this, Ashlyn!" He didn't bother turning to her. "I'm done with it. I'm sick of his shit. He's not the dragon I used to know."

"Don't do anything rash, Roland. You–"

"Just _shut up_..."

"Rol–"

"SHUT UP!"

Fire blazed in his eyes, and he was hoping that would scare Ashlyn away. She narrowed hers, though, snatching him by the throat, glaring, face centimetres from his. He could only just breathe.

"Let g–"

"You listen to me, Roland." Her tongue could slice steel in half. He shivered under her touch. "Stop this shit. Calm down. He'll see your anger and he'll use it against you. You're smarter than this, and you know you are. Don't be a reckless dumb-arse."

"But he–"

"No. _Fucking_. Buts. Stop this right now. _Breathe_ , Roland."

She'd silence a dreadwing with those words. Roland did as he was told.

"I'm mad, too," she said, the poison leaving her system. She let go of his neck, and she even looked sorry she'd done such a thing, but the glare remained. She had a temper, one easily shattered, and he kept on forgetting that. "Carolin's been one of the kindest people I've ever met. I just don't want you getting yourself hurt. Seth won't give a damn if you hit him. He'll hit back harder. Let's just try to solve this calmly... alright?"

He breathed. In, then out. He looked down, then back at Ashlyn. The flames dissipated as quickly as they'd appeared, leaving only embers of hatred for the brown dragon.

Anger wouldn't get him anywhere. He was stupid to think so. It was wrong to think he still wasn't a little mad, however.

"...Alright."

"Good." She started leading the way. Roland followed a step behind her. "Let's hope Carolin's not hurt too badly."

They rounded the corner, the sewer stretching into a wide compartment before them. Two murky streams coursed down the sides, the middle made completely of cobblestone. Carolin sat in the centre, paw clasped against her head, and another dragoness – he believed it was Leurona, the one who'd brought Ashlyn to the sewers – tried to comfort her. He knew Leurona for crazy antics, but her blue face was dead serious now. She held a piece of steel in one paw, speckled with blood, and she seemed to be examining it.

Roland and Ashlyn rushed towards the two; Seth wasn't in sight. He'd run off once again, left everybody else to pick up the pieces he'd left in ruin behind. Roland knelt as he reached a teary-eyed Carolin. Behind her paw, he could see a sticky red coursing from the side of her head and down her cheek.

"Seth hit her with this," Leurona said, holding the slice of metal up. It was thick and, shockingly, barbed. It could've shattered Carolin's skull had he hit the wrong place. "I hope you don't mind my language, but... he's an arsehole. This is just _wrong_ on so many levels."

"We've already established that," Roland replied, putting a paw on Carolin's shoulder. She didn't look up at the new touch, focused on her blood steadily dripping onto the ground. "Carolin? Are you okay? ...No, stupid question. Where's Drevon?"

Carolin didn't respond. Her head moved slightly from side to side. Ashlyn waved a paw in front of Carolin's eyes, and only then did she look up. She didn't look straight at her, though, instead into the empty space of the pipe.

Ashlyn shook her head. "I think she might have a serious concussion. She needs spirit gems and a bed. Can you do that for her, Leurona?"

"I have a few gems of my own. And to answer your question, Roland, I haven't seen Drevon around. Last I saw he was flying somewhere." She wrapped a wing around Carolin's frame and lifted her to her feet. Carolin's legs buckled under the immediate stress, and she whimpered in pain. "Hey, Kage, get over here and help me out!"

The little orange dragon had been waiting around the corner the entire time, but now he came sprinting to help. He did struggle to get his wing around Carolin, being a tiny bit smaller than her, but his strength was of use to Leurona who was only just a little bigger than Carolin.

"Where did Seth go?" Roland peered down the corridor, but there was still no sign of him. Part of him had been hoping he'd show up to confront them about this.

"He went down there." Leurona pointed down the hall and to the left. At least, I was walking the other way when he passed me, and that's when I found Carolin."

"Thanks," Ashlyn said, standing up. Leurona nodded.

"C'mon, Carolin. You've been hit pretty bad." She and Kage walked down the pipe until they turned the corner, in the opposite direction Seth had gone. Roland stared after her for what felt like a minute.

"She'll be fine. She just needs a lot of rest." Ashlyn's smile was reassuring, he couldn't deny that. The confidence just seemed to come out of nowhere with her. It was almost like meeting a new person everyday. But he guessed that was just her. She obviously felt the need to be confident and commanding in this situation. "Now, come on. You need to talk some sense into that brown dragon – you know him better than anyone – but first we've got to find him."

They didn't run, but their pace was quick nonetheless. The place Roland assumed Seth would go was the office, and so he turned down that way. The door was fast approaching. Now that he wasn't blinded by rage, he felt scared walking down this way.

He'd been hoping Seth would give in to his rage earlier. Expected it, even. But that was idiotic to believe. Seth wouldn't just back down. He was stubborn.

But Roland needed to succeed. Seth had to go. He'd done too much.

For Drevon and for Carolin, he'd make it so.

He placed his paw on the door handle, grip quivering. Ashlyn looked at him and noticed his apprehension, and only gave him another smile. It was reassuring enough. He'd have somebody with him every step of the way.

"Let's do this," he said, and turned the handle.

The office was dark. Seth's lantern wasn't lit. For a second, Roland thought there was no sign of him, but Seth's form was faint in the darkness. He was behind the desk in the centre, his spine to the back wall. He didn't look up from his position as they entered.

Roland had had a few words in mind, but he faltered when he saw him like that. He carefully reached for the electric lantern and flicked it on, his eyes unmoving from Seth's position. The light barely glowed. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it a few moments later. Ashlyn shuffled awkwardly beside him.

"What do you want, Roland?" Seth spoke. He seemed to choke on the words, and his voice was nasally.

Roland trod very carefully around the room to Seth's position. He cleared his throat. Just looking at the brown dragon angered him, but... there was something different about him that Roland couldn't quite see in the lamplight. "...You need to stop, Seth."

Still, Seth didn't look up, his eyes pinned to the ground. As Roland got closer, he realised Seth was missing part of a horn, and there was a small dent in the stone wall above him. The piece that'd snapped off lay a few metres from him. A dragon's pride, shattered.

"I can't," Seth said. Roland stopped where he was. Ashlyn wasn't following him anymore, waiting in the doorway. She didn't try to interrupt.

"Why?" Roland asked. "It's wrong, and I think you know it."

"Because I don't want to get hurt."

His answer confused the red drake at first, but then he knew what he spoke of.

"You're scared of Drevon, aren't you?"

Seth didn't react for a few moments. He didn't make a move. "...Yes. I am."

Seth was more so now than he'd ever been. He'd been fearful of the power Drevon contained, but when Drevon was pushed to his limit, he'd witnessed that full force. He'd nearly died because of it.

"And now I realise I've fucked up more than ever," Seth continued. "I didn't even want to hit _her_. She approached me about her brother, and... I just couldn't handle thinking about him. I've felt so alone for a long time... My mother used to tell me it was okay to do what you want to get what you want all the time. It felt... _good,_ when I was down, when I was scared _._ Now I know that's just wrong."

Surprisingly, Roland found his words genuine. Even if Seth sounded genuine, though, he was still ready for anything the brown dragon would throw at him. He couldn't be trusted so easily. "You could've killed her, Seth. Very, _very_ easily. You hit her with a block of barbed steel."

"I know. That's why I'm in here, hiding from it."

Roland didn't remove his gaze from Seth as he walked to cracked shard of silver horn on the ground. He took the piece in his paw, and studied it and Seth with the corner of his eye. An act of self-loathing.

"Why did you smash your head against the wall?" he questioned. Seth's breath shook.

"I don't deserve it. To be a dragon. We're the most powerful creatures in the world, Roland, but I've only used that power to do awful things." Seth finally looked up. His eyes shone with tears. "I've rammed into the wall behind me so many times before this. T-today it finally broke."

Roland sat on the floor, discarding the brittle shard. "Drevon would never willingly hurt anyone, Seth. Purple dragons have never had a good reputation, no. But other than a few more elements than you, he's just a normal dragon."

"That dark power, though, Roland... Aren't you afraid?"

Roland leaned against the wall, eyeing the doorway. Ashlyn had since left the room to the two of them. He was sure she was just waiting outside, however. "No, I never have been. It's his dark side. We all have one. As long as we all keep each other happy, though, it'll never have to be brought out. That's what I've always wanted to have down here. More than wealth. I might be greedy, but I'll always put everyone else above greed. But you going around and doing what you've done..."

Seth's eyes fell to the floor once again. The room was quiet, except for his occasional shaky breath.

"Even after all that, I... I still want _you_ to be happy, Seth." It was the truth. Roland found he did still care, if only slightly. Maybe if Seth was happy, he'd stop what he was doing. The red dragon didn't know if he wanted to wait and see, though. "...Drevon wants to be normal like the rest of us, you know. He would never let dark aether consume him on purpose. _He's_ scared of it, Seth. And you were the one to bring it out. If you think trying to scare him will hold it back, you're wrong. You're just making it worse. You're making everyone's life more diff–"

"I've realised all that, okay?!" Seth raised his voice. For once, though, the anger left him quicker than ever. "Just... what if it comes out one day, and nobody's at fault? It happened to Spyro. It could happen to him."

"I believe in Drevon not to succumb to that," Roland said. "Drevon's a perfectly fine person if you get to know him. He's just like any of us, Seth. Just another thief."

Seth didn't say a word. He didn't seem to believe Roland at all. The red dragon exhaled.

If Seth couldn't believe that Drevon was a good person at heart, there was really only one option.

"Look, if you have a problem with Drevon," Roland began, "then you've gotta leave. I'm not making Drevon go anywhere over purple scales. If he really scares you that much..."

"Yeah, I was waiting for you to say it." Seth sighed. Roland didn't really feel like he needed to continue, but he did anyway.

"You're the one with the problem. It might do you better to get away from here if I'm being honest. If you can't deal with Drevon's presence, this is your best option. And I really don't want you to stay only to keep hitting him, to satisfy yourself."

Seth nodded. "I understand... Roland, I... I was planning to, anyway. I didn't want to tell you. I knew what my issue was and I just couldn't help it. So, I need to get away from it. That's all there is to it."

Roland was kind of shocked he had been planning to go after all this time. It made him feel bad for telling Seth himself.

"I'll get going now," Seth said, lifting himself to his feet. He started walking past Roland. "I'll find someplace else. It's for the best."

Roland didn't know what to say. His mind was full of questions, but none of them would leave his mouth. Seth had been wanting to leave of his own accord. He could barely register that.

"You can keep everything in here." Seth pointed to the entirety of the office. "My gift to you..." He walked through the door. "See ya, Roland."

Roland was about to tell him to wait up, but Seth poked his head back in a second later. "Oh, before I go. I... left a little something in the top drawer of the desk for you. It was supposed to be a birthday present, to make up for everything, but I'm not gonna be around to give it to you. It's getting cold, Roland."

"S-Seth, wait–"

"I-I'm sorry, Roland, for... _everything_."

Then, without another word, he left, leaving Roland alone in the gloom.

He felt like he'd betrayed Seth somehow.

Seth had only ever been frightened. If he'd realised that and hadn't thought up all those other reasons, maybe he could've stopped all this earlier.

Maybe Seth had never really had to leave. Maybe he could...

"He never wanted any of this..."

Roland peered after him one last time, a brown speck that faded seconds later. He almost ran after him, but his legs held firm.

No, Seth had left. It was done. There was no coming back.

"See you, Seth."

He fell to his hindquarters. Ashlyn stepped through the door, the surprise apparent in her eyes.

"It was just like that, huh?" she asked. "Gone?"

"Yep."

"N-never coming back?"

"Yep."

"I... guess I overestimated what Seth would try to do to you."

Roland leaned his head against the wall Seth had smashed his against. He picked up the shard again, studying it carefully. The only memory left, the good inside of him.

Everything Seth had done to Drevon was terrible, no doubt about it. Roland still felt sickened Seth would do such a thing. He... loathed Seth for all that. He despised him more for bringing Carolin and himself into this. Those actions were inexcusable, no matter the reason.

At least Seth had tried to leave on a good note. Maybe he could've redeemed himself in time, but it was done now.

Roland made a move, throwing that piece of Seth leftover away. It was already weak, cracked, and crumbled as it hit the floor again. He paced over to the desk, Ashlyn eyeing him worriedly.

"Do you hate him?" she asked.

Roland opened the top drawer. Folded neatly inside was a thick red scarf, one that matched his scales perfectly, the end trimmed with a yellow that would accent his horns. It was like it'd been knitted specifically for him.

"I'll always hate him after what he did." Roland lifted the scarf and found a creased note underneath it. He picked that up as well. He read through Seth's final words.

_'In the winter, we were always cold when we were younger. Remember when we used to huddle up next to my matchbox? How dumb we were, thinking a lit match could warm us up. We could never find anything to use as tinder, and someone would surely spot the smoke inside these confines._

_Nevertheless, this will keep you warm. It's the least I could do. I hope it brings back good memories, not the stuff I've done in recent times. I just want you to smile again. Properly, Roland. An actual smile._

_I'm so sorry._

_Seth.'_

"But," Roland continued, rubbing a paw against his eyes, "I can respect him for what he tried to do in the end. He at least deserves that."

* * *

"So, where did you go?" Roland asked, pacing down the pipelines. Drevon walked a few feet away from him. He'd only just gotten back from wherever he'd headed, and now they were moving towards their bedrooms. Roland had sat down with his pocket watch, which read midnight, in the entrance for some alone time.

"...Nowhere, bud. Just over the seas for a bit." He shrugged. "I flew around for a little while. And... then I had another hallucination, while I was in the sky."

Roland's interest was piqued. "What did you see?"

He sighed. "Fire. Lots and lots of fire, Roly. Firemore was burning."

Roland's eyes widened. "I had that exact same vision..."

"Visions and hallucinations are different things, bud," Drevon said, looking over at him. Roland could swear he saw a faint smirk trace his mouth. For once, Drevon was the one with answers. He probably was well-versed on the subject, considering he received them both frequently. "Visions transport your mind to other places. You can see them, hear them, even taste them sometimes. Hallucinations are just things I see when I'm out and about. They're distracting, but they don't make me fall unconscious like visions."

"Well, I saw Firemore ablaze, _too_ ," Roland replied, trying to relate. "I was inside it, though, and I could hear people screaming. There was this black shadowy thing with white eyes."

"Just saw everything on fire for a bit, I did. I had to blink a few times before it went away. And I was so distracted, I almost fell into the water. I was flying pretty low."

Roland lifted a brow. "You shouldn't be flying low against the water, Drevon. That's sea serpent territory out there. Those things will snap up at you and swallow you whole. Exports here have a hard enough time keeping to the shallow parts of the sea."

"I do know the routes, actually," Drevon said, shrugging again. "But yeah, you've got a point."

They fell silent. Drevon didn't seem to know what to say, and neither did Roland. There was this awkward air between them that Roland found peculiar. They were never usually this quiet.

Drevon looked in thought, with the way he stared blankly forward. That excitable purple dragon didn't generally think so deeply, but he had been doing that for quite some time now. It pained Roland to not see him happy anymore. These past weeks had changed him.

Roland decided he really didn't like that change. As irritating as Drevon's previous excitability had been to him, he still loved that far more than the depressing aura he carried now. And when Drevon caught him looking at him, Roland thought the purple dragon sensed the awkwardness silencing them too, and tried to lift his head and put on a small smile.

He only sighed in response.

"Roland..." Drevon started. He was in thought still, but probably for something to spice up their conversation. "That's a... really nice scarf you've got there. Where did you get it? I guess it is getting a bit cold."

He'd forgotten he'd even been wearing it. Then he remembered he needed to tell Drevon the news.

"No, it was a parting gift... from Seth."

Drevon looked taken aback. The red drake wasn't too sure how Drevon would react to such a thing.

" _Parting_ gift?" he asked. "You mean he left?"

"Yep. Exactly that." They finally arrived at Roland's door. He already had his paw on the handle. He was finding it difficult to keep his eyes open. "He thought it was the right thing to do. He... was scared of you, Drevon."

Drevon shrugged. Somehow, he didn't sound relieved at all. "You know, I... I kind of figured. People were scared of Spyro's darkness. It only makes sense somebody's scared of mine. It was the things he was saying to me. You weren't there, but he said all sorts of things about how I was going to destroy everything and... I don't really want to think about it, Roland. Weird of him to just pack up and leave... Did he do anything after I left?"

"Yeah, he hit Carolin with a block of steel," he said calmly. The purple drake's head jerked towards his.

"What!?" he exclaimed. "Is she okay!?"

"Y-yeah, she's fine!" he hurriedly explained. "Ashlyn thinks she's got a concussion, though. She's resting right now, and Leurona's watching over her. I really don't think we should disturb–"

"No, I need to check on her." Defiantly, Drevon jogged towards her room, on the very far end of the pipe they were in. Roland exhaled and ran after him. He desired no more than the warmth of his bed, but he didn't exactly want an aching Carolin to deal with her fretful brother for too long. He should've been expecting this as soon as he told him.

Drevon stopped at her door and put his head up against it, listening for Carolin. He wasn't satisfied with that, though, and before Roland could tell him to leave her be for now, he opened the door with almost a barge.

"Carolin?" Drevon called. "You in here?"

Roland's tired eyes swept across the room, but he found only darkness, the lamps attached to the walls not reaching the end of this pipe. Carolin kept a wax candle on a bookshelf next to her door, however, and he'd struck a match by the time Drevon had stopped walking around the room.

Her room consumed by firelight, Roland looked to her bed, but was startled out of his exhausted daze when he saw a figure right beside it. Leurona had been watching over her, but now he saw her unconscious on the floor. Had she been knocked out?

He nearly approached, then realised he was being an idiot. No, she'd just fallen asleep. It _was_ midnight after all. A youngish dragoness like her wouldn't have the energy to stay up on watch, not that she really needed to down here.

There was a dragon-like lump in the bed, anyway. Carolin was deep in her sheets, swallowed whole by them. Drevon had made his way over to the side of her bed.

"Carolin," he spoke again, placing a paw where her shoulder would've been. "Wake up."

The green dragoness didn't even stir. She definitely had been needing this rest. Drevon did go too far, Roland thought, when he pulled the covers off her body. Why couldn't he just leave her–

Drevon gasped, putting a paw to his muzzle. Intrigued by his concern, Roland walked over and got a better look at what was there. Or rather, what wasn't

That lump in her bed had been no more than a few pillows. Drevon ripped them off her bed and found absolutely nothing.

She was _gone_.

"You said she was resting!" Drevon said, looking towards him with frightened, almost blaming eyes. "She shouldn't be up at a time like this, especially not with a concussion!"

"Well, I don't know where she went!" Roland flared his wings. "Leurona was supposed to watch over her, but she's fallen asleep. She probably just went out on a walk."

"W-well, like... don't assign somebody so young to watch her!"

"I didn't really have much of a choice, considering Seth was the main priority!"

"You could've taken over when you were done! I trust you more!"

Leurona groaned and the two dragons looked over. She had a paw to her forehead.

"Ouch... My head..."

Drevon turned around, desperately hoping Leurona would have an answer to this problem. It would only be futile, though, considering she'd been asleep.

"Leurona!" Drevon startled her with the frantic calling of her name. "Where did Carolin go?!"

"W-wait, what?" Leurona angled her head, and then looked over to the bed. Her eyes widened. "...Oh, shit."

"So, you don't know?" Roland rushed over to the other side of the bed. She looked like she was in serious head trauma.

"N-no... Somebody hit me hard in the head. Ouch..."

Roland's heart skipped a beat. "Wait, what?"

"I must have been knocked out..."

He had assumed correctly before. And if Carolin was gone, that meant...

That meant somebody had _taken_ her!

Drevon didn't seem to know what to think. He was in utter shock. Leurona realised what her explanation meant only moments after. And Roland felt like he couldn't move.

Who in the name of the Ancestors would take Carolin?! First she'd been whacked in the skull with a block of steel, and now she'd been stolen away from them!

He breathed, trying to calm himself. He remembered Ashlyn telling him that when he got angry earlier. It definitely helped. "O-okay," he started a few seconds later. "Let's not assume the worst just yet. You never know, m-maybe they had good intentions."

"Roland, that's completely fucking stupid!" Drevon yelled. Roland wasn't at all taken aback by his shout. He'd expected that, but he did feel like an idiot for suggesting such a thing when he thought harder about it. "Who would just _knock somebody out_ if they didn't have bad intentions?! Someone's _kidnapped_ her!"

"M-maybe she... knocked Leurona out herself?"

"She couldn't hurt a dragonfly, Roland!"

"Stop arguing!" Leurona shouted above them. "And Roland, stop being stupid!" The smaller dragoness had a voice bigger than the pair of them. She looked at Carolin's little clock, sitting beside a lamp on a small cupboard. "I was hit five or ten minutes ago. They can't have gone far, and we're wasting time just standing here!"

"You're right," Roland replied. "Leurona, who's here in the sewers?"

"Myrtle, Kage, Flare, Trix, you, me, and him. I'll round them up."

"What about Ashlyn?" She wouldn't be out at this time, surely. She liked her sleep.

Leurona shrugged. "She said she went out for a walk and hasn't come back. I'm sort of worried, honestly. She kept saying things about you before she left, Roland. I think she wanted to impress you by stealing something."

Roland was flattered, but now was no time to be worrying about that. They had a dragoness to find before it was too late.

"Alright. We'll all go through the moleholes, because I didn't see anyone come through the entrance. Look for any sign of Carolin."

"Got it." With that, Leurona rushed off, sprinting down the corridors. Roland looked to Drevon.

"She better be fine. If not..."

Roland put a paw to his shoulder. "I'm sure she's okay. They haven't gone far with her. We'll get her back."

Drevon stormed off, tripping Roland up. "We better..."

Roland really did hope so. He knew it was not only Carolin at stake here. It was his friend, too. Roland could only imagine what would happen to Drevon if he lost his little sister.

He didn't want to imagine it.

* * *

There was absolutely no sign of her anywhere. The more they looked, the more panicked Drevon became, and the less hope Roland had. Firemore was a huge city, almost as enormous as the great dragon city to the south. It occurred to Roland that searching the vast breadth of his hometown would take aeons if they couldn't find her this night.

Drevon hadn't stopped jogging aimlessly through the night. Roland kept close, but running forever into the thick gloom of Firemore's older streets was taking its toll on him. Every muscle in his body had already been aching, and he felt as if his bones were about to collapse in on themselves.

It had been hours of running. Roland had only kept up for the hope they'd find Carolin quickly, but the darkness had eaten her. Drevon, once again, called out his sister's name.

"Carolin! Where are you?!"

Nobody came.

Roland stopped as soon as they happened upon a street light, a rusty iron bench right beside it. He'd run a marathon already. Drevon came skidding to a halt, and rushed over to Roland.

"No, we can't stop running, Roland! We _have_ to find her!"

"D-Drevon." He gasped for air. "J-j-just... give me a second."

"The longer we wait, the less time we'll have!" he exclaimed, pulling on his best friend's leg attached to the bench. Roland kicked his paw away. Drevon was taken aback by his aggression.

Roland held onto the bench for support, wiping his brow of sweat with the scarf wrapped around his neck. "I'm exhausted! We can't run forever, Drevon! It's been _hours_. _"_

"She's still out there, Roland, we can–"

"Drevon!" he yelled. His desperate attempts to cling onto hope had finally failed him. His body was poisoned with grief and guilt. No amount of searching this night would ever find that green dragoness. "Sh-she's gone! I can't run anymore..."

"She is NOT being taken away from me!" Drevon shouted back. "If you won't keep going, then just fuck off!"

Roland's heart ached at those words. But he knew there was no point. It was a fruitless effort; it had always been in vain. "Drevon, you can't keep running; we're not getting anywhere. We need to sit down and–"

"FUCK OFF!" Drevon screamed, setting his body alight. He knelt down for a second before blasting off in a furious comet dash. Roland tried to grab at him, but he was far too late on that front, and would've been singed had he reached him.

His eyes fell to the ground. He couldn't blame the purple dragon. Carolin was his world.

That world had been ripped to shreds, though. They weren't finding her in this darkness, if not ever. She was gone...

He planted himself on the metallic bench. The black was thick, almost choking. It reminded him of Drevon and what he'd become. If Carolin was gone, then it would only come back. And Roland didn't know what to do about that. He wouldn't be able to convince Drevon again, not with his sister gone.

Not with him thinking she was _dead_.

Roland still clutched onto the belief that she wasn't yet. But the longer he waited, the more the light of hope shining through the cracks of his melancholy would dim and give way unto the night.

Minutes passed. Drevon hadn't come back. That purple dragon wouldn't stop at anything, not until his bones ached and his eyes closed. Roland knew it was time to give up, though. Nobody would help their guild find Carolin, nor would anyone be able to.

He felt a drop of rain hit his snout.

"Almost comical how well that's timed..."

The bench was low to the ground, so he dragged his tail along the ground. He scratched shapes into the stone with the edge of his tail blade.

There was a metallic jingle as the end of his tail knocked something skidding across the pavement. Just a stray coin, he thought, fallen out of an unfortunate soul's wallet. His curiosity got the better of him, however, and he just had to examine it. What else could he do?

He paced up slowly, and bent down to look at the rocky floor. It didn't turn out to be a coin, in fact. It was a ring, golden and embedded with a small sapphire. It might fetch a nice price on the market, but otherwise it was rubbish. Any greed had left him as despair took over. He decided to merely throw it away...

Almost.

His eyes scanned it further as memories flooded his mind. He'd seen this before.

"Wait, this is Ashlyn's ring," he said. The design was unmistakable. He'd never seen another of its kind. It shined so perfectly, just like the scales on that blue dragoness, in spite of her time in the sewers. It was recently polished, too, and that was enough to conclude it was hers.

He frowned. Ashlyn's ring out here? Had she lost it on the walk she'd taken? He ought to give it back to her. She'd be worried sick, knowing she'd lost something so valuable. He didn't know where it was from, but it was a trinket that definitely meant something to her. Oh, she'd be overjoyed to have it back.

He'd thought she was more careful than this, though. How would something so snug and tight on one of her toes fall off like this? She'd notice if it ever came came off.

"...Why _did_ she go on such a long walk?" he asked himself. "It's the _middle of the night_ now."

She hadn't been trying to get away from anything, as far as he knew, not like Drevon. Who would just go out like this? Maybe she was becoming one of their thieves who took to staying outside the sewers.

She hadn't seemed very insistent on going at all, though...

Maybe she was still trying to find a way to impress him, like Leurona said. He hoped she wasn't going to work herself too hard. She'd be buggered at this time.

He had no idea what to make of this anyway. He looked at the ring in his claws once again, and frowned, a single thought overpowering all.

"What if she took Carolin?"

As soon as he'd said it to himself he felt disgusted by the words. No, he couldn't be blaming her. That was just straight up wrong. She wasn't like that at all. As long as you didn't get on her bad side, she was one of the kindest, most polite dragons he knew. She would never just up and go with someone too weak to fight back.

He thought harder about it and his experiences with her. Their first meeting, she'd been very shy. He'd gotten used to that. But she'd mentioned something bad after he explained what they did in the sewers. He'd taken it as nothing then.

"No, Roland, it's nothing," he growled at himself. "Stop being a dickhead."

Her strange need to run off during the heist... Why had she done that again? It was a friend's home, and she'd felt scared of the place?

He frowned. She had been pretty mysterious this whole time.

He was just about to call himself another name for thinking idiotically when there came a crack in the distance. Looking to the dim skies, he thought it was thunder, but the rain was still only a sprinkle and hadn't picked up yet. No, something had _broken_ to the north of him, and it wasn't far away.

He wondered what before it came again, louder.

Roland decided to run after it, placing Ashlyn's ring in his pocket watch, the compartment big enough to house the small clock and the jewellery. He could go back and return her ring soon, after Drevon came back, of course. He had a noise to inspect first. Letting go of his thoughts, he jogged down the streets

Another crack, louder, closer, followed by a blast. Loose rock and dirt sprinkled across the ground. Roland was all too familiar with that noise. Earthen magic.

He stopped in his tracks.

It couldn't be him. Not after _leaving_... Was he really still at it?!

"L-let go!" a faint young voice cried, the rain growing thicker. Carolin! He didn't waste a second. It had all been a farce after all. Seth would _never_ mean any of what he said. Roland sprinted around the corner and down the street the brown monster had taken her through.

"Carolin!" he called above the noise flooding his ears. He could barely hear himself, but the response he received rekindled the hope in his chest in an instant. An inferno of determination burned inside him.

"Roland!" she yelled back. "Hel–"

The rest was either cut off by the torrent now falling, or Seth shutting her mouth up. He was able to hear where she was, though. Not far now.

"I'm coming, Carolin! Hang in there!"

He dashed through the alleyway, hearing muffled feet scamper along the sopping ground. He leaped straight over the wall on the end and sprinted through to the other side. Seth couldn't run far, not with an injured dragoness by his side, pulling on her.

Roland would put an end to this, once and for all. This was as far as Seth would ever go again!

When he reached the other end of the street, he saw a jumble of bodies, one struggling to free herself, the other trying his damnedest to rush forth. They were taking the next alleyway. He'd surely corner Seth there. He wouldn't ever get over that wall with the dragoness weighing him down.

Seth did try to leap it, but he failed, clawing at the bottom. He looked to be panicking, and was helplessly struggling to hold onto the green dragoness. Roland bared his fangs and charged forward, the speed of the Ancestors behind his legs.

"R-Roland!" Carolin screamed again. He could see her desperate eyes now. Seth had stopped trying. He knew he was going to be cornered. He knew he was going to have to fight.

And Roland knew that, too. He hadn't fought a real battle in his life, but he charged in there as if he'd fought thousands.

"Stop!" a different voice yelled. It was the other dragon, but that feminine tone couldn't possibly be Seth's. Roland came grinding to a halt at the unexpected voice.

"J-just... stop."

Roland couldn't believe his eyes. Lit by an iron lamp on the side of the building, her eyes glimmered in the dim light.

"Ashlyn?"

"Roland, please!" Carolin yelled, her face soaked in the rain and tears. "Help m–"

Ashlyn put a paw over Carolin's muzzle and had her restrained in the grip of the her wing. "I-I'm s-sorry, Roland, b-but..." She could barely say the words. If Roland looked hard enough, he could see tears pricking at her own eyes as well. The fire growing in his veins couldn't be doused by even the downpour, however.

"What are you _doing_ with her, Ashlyn!?" he yelled at her. "Let her go!"

Carolin's paws glowed, but Ashlyn immediately took note and slammed a paw into her gut. The green dragoness choked on her own element. Roland had half a mind to thrust his body into her right then.

"Roland, I-I... p-please let me expl–"

"Let her the fuck go, you monster!" he cut her off. All doubt had left him. It was her. And he didn't know what to think. "If you do _anything_ to her, I'll make sure you fucking pay!"

He took a single step towards her, his entire body shivering with rage. Everything he'd known about her was a lie. She'd been lying to all their faces, just so she could get a hold of Carolin.

But why in the hell would she do that?!

"Roland, j-just–"

"You can explain _right_ after you give her to me!" Yet another step. A few more, and he'd been in striking distance. And, if she didn't do anything this instant, that was exactly what he'd do. He didn't care if she was stronger; he would hit her as hard as he could.

She looked to him, defeated. Roland huffed. Tears flowed from Carolin's eyes.

He started shaking in fear, then. She had nothing more to say. That was scarier than whatever she'd been trying to tell him.

He breathed through clenched teeth.

"Let her go, Ashlyn."

Only a sob came from her muzzle.

"I-I'm sorry, Roland."

He thrust a paw forward as soon as she opened her mouth again. Carolin's eyes rolled in the back of her head as she choked, red splattering against rain-soaked stone. Roland rushed forward and barged Ashlyn out of the way, catching Carolin before she hit the ground.

She was limp in his paws, a sharp icicle driven through her skull. The warmth faded from her body. Emotionless, green eyes stared back into his.

He fell to his knees. His eyes watered.

Gone, in no more than a snap. Life ended before his very eyes. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, her body falling from his paws. He could only stare at that icicle and the gathering crimson around it, washing away. Her blood, her memories, everything, drained in the gutter.

"No..."

It was all he uttered. All he _could_ utter. There were no words.

Carolin was gone. She was _gone._

That young soul hadn't even lived, and here she was, a cold corpse on the ground.

He turned. He didn't even know what he would say to Ashlyn, but she wasn't there. She'd sprinted far, far away, before he could retaliate.

He clenched his fists.

He fell to his knees again in front of her, the rain melting the icicle. All that was left was a gaping, bloody hole. He thought he was going to vomit at the sight.

Scampering, wet paws met Roland's ears. He didn't bother turning. Drevon had been too late.

"Roland," the purple dragon said. "I heard you yelling and I–"

"She's dead, Drevon. Ashlyn killed her." Roland choked at the words. Drevon ran forward, stopping at his sister's feet.

"C-Carolin..."

Drevon's world crumbled. Everything he lived for was gone. He fell to his knees.

He wrapped two paws around Carolin. Roland draped a shaking wing over his best friend as he sobbed into his sister's shoulder.

Roland knew what it was like to see someone die. He'd seen those people in the market square. His mother had driven ice through her own skull. It was just fact that they were dead now. Nothing more than that.

But Carolin, a young friend, kind to all... he couldn't deal with that. She'd had so much more life to look forward to. She deserved that, more than anyone. And yet, here she was, slain by her own kindness.

She, of all dragonkind, shouldn't have died.

It should've been him...

It felt like hours before Drevon finally sat up. He wiped his eyes on his paw. He opened his maw, lip quivering.

"I... I'm going to find her," he said, voice tight. "And I am going to kill her. Mark my words, Carolin."

In all honesty, Roland felt Ashlyn deserved it. She _fucking deserved it_. She wasn't allowed to have that honour, to decide the fate of someone everyone cared for.

Drevon ran off once again into the night, and Roland didn't try to stop him this time. He didn't care anymore. Carolin was sitting dead right in front of him. Darkness, or no darkness, Roland didn't give a single shit.

All he did was lift himself up and walk away into the darkness, back to the sewers, the body of the one stolen away from them all hoisted onto his back.


	11. The Start of an Era

The Start of an Era

When Roland returned, the people that still chose to live in the sewers had already stopped searching. They'd tried for hours, just like him, but there had been no sign of the dragoness they'd lost.

And then Roland brought her back, eyes wet, face stone-blank. He'd tried so hard to keep his guilt, his melancholy, suppressed. But when Myrtle looked at him with shocked eyes, jaw dropped, he couldn't help but break down.

"It's okay," she kept on saying, giving him her shoulder to cry on. "It's okay."

That was a lie and she knew it, too. But at least she was there for him. Each step carrying Carolin's cold, dead body had broken him more, until he'd finally snapped.

It was a few minutes after when Myrtle ordered everyone outside, to the very edge of the forest. There were no objections. Myrtle carried the body that time. Roland walked far from everyone else, and Myrtle seemed to understand he needed time to himself.

They dug a grave. Roland sat and watched. Myrtle said he'd done enough for that night. He remembered exhaustion finally taking its toll on him there, and passing out.

It was a few days later when he decided to head out to the spot they'd chosen for Carolin, finally summoning the courage to step outside his room. Myrtle had been eager to come with him. It wasn't like he would protest. She had just as much right as anyone to visit her, but she hadn't seemed to think so when she asked him for his permission. She was probably just worried about catching him in a terrible mood, if he had to guess. But the company was definitely appreciated on his part.

He sat, staring at the small wooden stick jutting out of the ground and the mound of fresh dirt beneath it for what felt like an eternity. Myrtle didn't make a sound, occasionally glancing at him, probably thinking over the events he'd just explained to her.

It was all his fault. He should've charged into Ashlyn when he had the chance, shouldn't have given _her_ a chance to fix what she'd done. Ashlyn had killed her, but he felt just as culpable as that manipulative back-stabber should've felt.

It shouldn't have ended this way, and it was his fault that it had.

He shouldn't have been so trusting...

And now Drevon was gone, too. He hadn't come back yet, and Roland was worried. Wasn't even there for his sister's funeral. They couldn't have waited for him, either, for they couldn't leave a dead body lying around. He was determined to find Ashlyn and avenge his sister, or at least that was what Roland thought. If that was the case, at this rate, he'd forever be searching for his sister's murderer, and he wouldn't ever find her.

Roland felt like he knew what was coming. Drevon would break, his mind would shatter. The red dragon remembered that feeling of dark aether. It twisted his gut.

He wished he could help. Wished the guard could help. But nobody would assist the Red Rodent.

Harper told him the guards were useless when it came to tracking down him. It was as if they just relied on people to be good to each other. For the most part, people didn't want to hurt each other, but when it really mattered, they couldn't do anything. Roland felt useless, even more so guilty, when he felt as if he'd worn the guard's hope thin.

Everything was changing for the worse, and he felt like it was all his doing. Not realising things in time. Being an imbecile. Trusting a stranger.

He shook his head, further descending into the deep pits of his mind. He tried and tried to do his best, but nothing would ever work out.

Carolin had paid for his idiocy.

He looked into the sky and wished he could turn back time and change it all...

"I know when you blame yourself for things, Roly," Myrtle said, reading the thoughts coursing through his mind. "You get this look of defeat about you. Whenever somethin' bad happens, you blame yourself. I mean.. you've been sitting in your room for three days. I've had to come and slide food under your door, and you wouldn't even say anythin'."

"I could've been faster," he said, voice small.

"What's done is done. Fate is fate." She offered a tiny smile. Even she looked to struggle with that, but he appreciated the gesture. "If you _had_ run at her, I'm pretty sure she would've done the same thing. I just don't like seein' you so down in the dumps, especially when you're not to blame for _anything_ that's happened."

He merely sighed. He didn't believe her. It was all a case of recognising things sooner, but he'd been too slow for any of it. And he'd thought he was perceptive.

"We can't change fate," she said. "Ashlyn was more cunning than us all, and we're _thieves_. If you're going to blame yourself for what happened, then the rest of the guild might as well blame themselves too."

"Wait, no," he said, shaking his head. "You're not–"

"Roland, you try to do everything yourself," she intervened. "You _never_ ask for help if you think you can do it, but you never can, because all these issues are way bigger than just you."

"But you weren't there. It's not like you could've tried to save her."

"We stopped searchin'." She seemed apologetic for that. "We all gave up hope. And I'm sure you felt like that, too. But you kept goin' on and brought Carolin back to us, and that's commendable in itself. If you're blaming yourself, I'm blaming myself as well. No buts."

Roland didn't have any more to say. His sorrow was lifted for but a moment before it once again draped over him like a shadow.

He didn't believe her. It was him. He'd been involved in this.

"I just wanna know why she did it," Myrtle said. "There had to be a reason. Nobody kills without motive."

Maybe he could've found that out, had he not been so consumed by rage. He clenched Ashlyn's ring in his paw, fallen off in Carolin's struggle. Whatever her reason was, the fact she'd split Carolin's skull with her element was unforgivable.

He wished he could forget those glazed over eyes, remember the ones filled with kindness, happiness. They'd become a distant memory already.

Roland looked down upon the stick and mound of dirt one more time before sighing into his scarf. He brought a claw to his side and, with a swift tear, tore off one of his scales. It stung, but only for a moment.

Then, as Myrtle nodded and did the same, he flicked it onto the mound of dirt, paying his respects. Now a part of him would be with her as she began her ascent into the realm of the Ancestors and became one of them. He hoped she would like that. She'd need all the help she could get, flying there.

He wished Drevon had been here right now to pay his respects to his sister. But no, he'd let the purple dragon go out of his sheer hatred for Ashlyn's actions. He knew that had been a mistake.

Living life for a chance at vengeance wouldn't get him anywhere.

He wondered if Drevon had already become what he'd feared and loathed.

Myrtle put a wing on his back, a warm smile splitting her muzzle. She flinched a little when she did, wings still healing. "C'mon. Why don't we go out and buy some breakfast? I know just how much you love an apple pie."

He looked to his side, but all he had on him was his pocket watch and scarf. Not a single copper piece in sight.

"I don't have any money," he said. "And do you really think we should be buying? People know who I am."

She shook a little silk bag in his face, jingling with copper. "I do, and we'll head to the baker you like, the one that won't rip ya head off. It's on me."

How could he forget old Anderson? He felt dumb just for that. "I... don't want you to spend your money on me."

"Well, I do." She started pulling him along, his feet dragging across the ground. "Hurry up! We don't have all mornin'!"

* * *

Roland poked and prodded at the apple pie laying before him. Usually, he'd just scoff the thing, unable to resist the juicy centre, the crunch of flaky crust topped with whipped cream. He licked his claw clean of cream occasionally, but otherwise didn't care for sating his hunger.

Meanwhile, Myrtle was perhaps the messiest eater he'd ever seen, devouring her own pie. He'd never seen someone eat so rabidly before, save perhaps a wild animal. It made that pie look even more off-putting.

Roland slouched with his back against a bench, staring into the stone wall of the alleyway. He leaned his head back and let a sigh drift from his mouth into the city air. The scarf wrapped snugly around his neck quivered slightly in the soft breeze. Myrtle seemed to finally take notice of it, her eyes full of curiosity.

"That scarf really suits you, ya know." She shoved another mouthful of pie into her mouth. A grin curled her food-stuffed maw. "It makes you look a little... thicker, lanky."

He couldn't help but let a tiny smile dawn on his own muzzle. It was obvious she was trying to make him feel better. He didn't really, but he could make her think so. "At least I'm lean, fatty."

She pouted playfully at that one. "Bit rude callin' a girl fat, don't you think?"

"Maybe I wouldn't have to if you didn't eat like a piggle."

She laughed, clipping his shoulder with a wing. He could hear the smirk in her voice alone. "I'm thoroughly offended, no-breath. Where did you get the scarf, though?"

"It was supposed to be a birthday present from Seth," he explained. "But he sort of... left."

"Oh, yeah, I heard. I guess he wasn't lyin' to me after all..."

He lifted a brow. "You knew about him leaving? Why didn't you tell me?"

"No, no," she said. "He talked to me about what he was doin' all the time. How wrong it all felt, and how sorry he was, but that he just couldn't help it. I tried to tell him he could, but I began to think he just didn't care after all, especially after what happened in the vault..."

"Oh, I see..." His mind was brought back to thoughts of Drevon and where in Firemore he could possibly be. As expected as Myrtle's answer was, he still had to ask. "Have you seen Drevon at all, Myrtle?"

"Nope." She shrugged. "You told me he ran off."

"I didn't tell you I let him." More guilt sank to the bottom of his stomach at the words. He looked at the apple pie in his paw one more time before setting it down on the round table in front of him. Myrtle was staring at him in confusion. "I'm an idiot. I could've stopped him. I just felt so mad. But now he's gone, and I... I fear what he might end up doing, Myrtle. W-what if he..."

"I'm positive he'll end up comin' back to us," Myrtle said, finally finishing off her meal. "He's just angry right now, and... well, who wouldn't be?"

He exhaled. "I could've stopped him from running off still. It's all my fault he's out there, trying to find her."

"Again, you're bringing this all back to yourself," she said, scrunching the bag her paper bag her pie had come in up in her paws. He saw some frustration in the way she crushed it. "Stop it. If you'd tried to stop him, he probably would have just yelled at you, maybe hit you, and neither of you want that. He just needs some time to be by himself."

"Or, better yet, I shouldn't have been so blind and I could've helped him." Roland's eyes fell to the ground. "I'm sure being out here is just gonna drive him insane, Myrtle, and that's all on me. I could've stopped Ashlyn and we could've–"

"Ancestors, Roland, stop blamin' yourself!" she intervened, exasperated. "I thought you understood that when I told you an hour ago."

"I... didn't really listen, honestly."

She scowled. "It is _not_ your fault. Stop saying it is!"

"But it _is_!" He slammed his paw into the table. His apple pie wobbled. "I could've done so much to stop all this, but I can't even say I _tried_! I didn't know, and it was all so obvious! I'm an idiot..."

"I didn't know, either! Does that make me an idiot, Roland?!"

He opened his mouth, but she'd stopped him dead in his tracks with that one. "N-no, you..."

"Then you _aren't_!" she yelled back. He leaned his head back, her snout inches from his. She sort of reminded him of Ashlyn, just a couple days ago... "Stop this fuckin' bullshit!"

"B-but... you weren't there."

She slapped Roland right across the cheek. It stung bad, inwardly more so. He couldn't meet her gaze, but he could hear the anger in her heaving breaths. He placed a paw to his cheek, wetting his claw with a droplet of blood.

"We're goin' in fuckin' circles!" she shouted straight into his face. "Why the hell can't you just accept that it's not _your_ fault?! You _weren't_ the one that killed Carolin! You _weren't_ the one that made Drevon run away! That was Ashlyn! If you need to blame someone, blame HER, not _yourself_!"

Guilt overwhelmed every fragment of his mind. First he didn't do anything, and now he was making Myrtle mad.

He couldn't ever do anything right...

"Stop lookin' like that!" She gripped his chin and made him stare right into her eyes. "For fuck's sake, Roland, you're not makin' any sense!"

He breathed a shaky sigh. She _really_ wanted to believe he played no part in this. Roland just couldn't see why she thought that way. Why she was so angry with him. She should've been agreeing with him, not trying to prove him wrong.

His eyes were wet.

"I... I need to go," he said, turning only slightly before Myrtle snatched his shoulder and tugged his face back towards hers.

"I'm not letting you go anywhere until you _stop._ " Her tone was more menacing than Roland had ever heard it, but she seemed to calm down. "You go away and you're just gonna keep goin' on. If you ain't stoppin' this shit, then I'm blaming myself, too."

"No, Myrtle, please don't–"

"I will," she said. "This isn't helping _anything,_ Roland. You're being a dick to yourself for the sake of being a dick. If you should feel bad about anything, it's that. You're just going to ruin everyone's mood. Where's the cheerful dragon I know gone?"

He gulped down the ball gathering in his throat. His eyes watered and he sniffled, running a paw across through tears. He tried hard to keep them from slipping away.

This guilt was eating away at his very being. Its hunger would never be sated.

"I've let everybody down..." he said, voice weak. "I've destroyed a life... I don't deserve anyone."

Rather than being vexed by his comment, Myrtle sat down on the bench again, her wings drooping. Maybe she thought it was hopeless now. Maybe she thought the demons inside him were far too powerful for her words alone. "I... know what it's like to have self-destructive thoughts. Ya caught me in a terrible position just a while ago, and I said some things I didn't mean. I know I deserve you guys. I _know_ I deserve you as a friend. You've accepted me as such for a reason."

"You've done more good than any thief I know," she continued. "You deserve us. You're kind, you want everyone to be happy. You always try your best... and when it doesn't go in your favour, you end up like this. You beat yourself up, like you are now, and usually you didn't even do anything wrong."

Roland stared at the stone beneath his feet. He opened his mouth to say the same thing he'd said multiple times already, but Myrtle hushed him.

"Drevon needs the time alone," the green dragoness said again. Roland looked to her, fear in his eyes.

"But what if he hurts someone?"

Myrtle sighed. "I'm worried about that myself. But there's nothing you could've done in that situation, and we aren't gonna be able to find him now. After seein' Carolin like that, I don't think he would've been in any position to listen to even you. If you had a sister, don't ya think you'd be as angry as him, too?"

He thought about it for a second. She was right... He would've been just as mad.

He was _still_ mad. But his fury couldn't begin to match Drevon's.

"See? It'll... sort itself out, I think." Myrtle put the end of her wing on his shoulder, a little grin parting her lips. "None of us realised what Ashlyn was doing, either. She was way too smart for all of us, and we were all way too trusting. That's on _all_ of us, and I don't care if you don't think so, because it _is_. I guess how easy we've had it made us forget that we're not as invincible as we thought we were. Spyro's laws made it so easy for us kids to break the law. It's kind of ironic."

He met her gaze again, and her eyes held no more than real care for him. He really did have the greatest friends in the world, talking to him like this...

Maybe he even deserved them.

"Please don't be horrible to yourself," she pleaded. "It hurts to look at, Roly. You're a really good friend of mine, and... you're making me feel like shit, too. You ain't gonna make anyone feel happy with what you're doin'."

Roland closed his eyes, calming himself. He _was_ just making her feel bad, he realised. There was guilt for that. He couldn't keep on going on like he was if it was going to be at the expense of everyone around him.

He didn't think he'd ever be able to accept that Carolin was gone. But he could at the very least stop what he was doing and reevaluate his actions. In hindsight, what he'd said had been so incredibly stupid. He'd thought he had a few more brain cells than that.

"I'm sorry, Myrtle," he said after a minute, running a paw against his eyes. She shook her head.

"Don't be. It's okay." She draped a wing over his back. "I'm sorry for makin' you bleed."

He chuckled shortly. "I at least deserved that..."

"There we go!" A playful punch met his side. "It's good to have you back. Dunno where you went."

"Yeah, I dunno where Roland went, either." He looked to the table and saw his barely touched apple pie staring at him. He suddenly had a huge appetite, grasping its metal tray. He was also feeling generous. "Do you wanna share this with me?"

"Nah, I'm too fat already, like you said," she jested. Roland couldn't help but shake his head, biting into the pie.

"You're not... fat," he said in between a mouthful of food. "You're just bulky and strong. Bulkier than me, anyway."

"Was that an attempt to flirt with me?" she laughed. Roland just rolled his eyes. "It ain't workin'."

"Yeah, like I'm totally interested in _you_ , Myrtle," he scoffed. "I have a... far more _sophisticated_ taste."

"Pfft, like that Octavia you drool over? _Sophisticated_ taste?" His face heated at the comment. Drevon must have told her all about his little fantasy. "She's _low_ on my tier list..."

"You keep a list of women you like?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised."

Roland grinned, although it was sort of sheepish this time after merely hearing the name Octavia. "What's wrong with her?"

"She's so... bland." Myrtle shrugged. "Grey scales, real average body... As a model, she's pretty... meh. You probably only like her because she doesn't have an element, either."

True, she had no element, but that wasn't some sort of birth defect like his. No, apparently she'd completely destroyed her element, drained her body of all magical substance. It could happen to a dragon when they exerted absurd amounts of force. She'd be able to recover, but it would take decades before her element could be used again. Luckily enough, dragons lived for almost two hundred and fifty years. Roland fantasised over whatever feat she'd pulled off with such a strong release of magic.

"She's _relatable_ , yes." He finished his apple pie and cast the metallic tray aside. "She's hot, too, though."

"Eh..." Myrtle just grimaced slightly. "Not my type."

Roland shrugged and leaned back. They were quiet for a minute. He idly tapped the end of his tail against the oaken bench. A soft, relieved breath escaped his muzzle.

After what Myrtle had said, and this flurry of minor jokes, he felt so much better. He'd never forget Carolin, but he would try to forget the fact he'd blamed himself in the first place. All he could do was move on. Ashlyn was gone now, thank the Ancestors. He hoped he'd never see her again.

But he was still curious. He looked at the ring held in his paws. Why had she done what she did? Roland thought Ashlyn (if that was her real name) had loved it down in the sewers, and it definitely had seemed like she enjoyed spending time with him.

She must've just been an incredible actress. If he could say anything positive about her, it would be that she definitely belonged in a theatre with that kind of acting.

But why had she laid a claw on Carolin in the first place, and why go through all that trouble in the first place?

She'd even looked sad she'd done it... Just more acting, he guessed.

"Have you put any thought into why Ashlyn would do it?" he asked Myrtle. She tilted her head.

"There's no evidence for her motive," she growled softly. "I really don't like bein' stumped. Usually, I can work out why people do things, but this just feels... totally random. I dunno, maybe she was an assassin? That would bring up the question of why somebody would want Carolin dead, though."

A bulb flickered on inside Roland's head. He didn't like the idea, but it seemed the most likely answer. "Ashlyn talked to me about why blaming the purple dragon was shallow. Perhaps... somebody was targeting Drevon. Trying to make him mad so they could bring out his dark side."

"I think a lot of people have forgotten he exists," Myrtle said. "I never see anyone talk about where he might've went, or about him in any way at all. They did hold a festival for his birth fourteen years ago, but it's like it never happened now. I did see our resident ice guardian recently, mumblin' to himself about the purple dragon, but ain't nothin' else. Tallis is... an odd guy, anyway."

"What was he saying?" Roland pressed, the cogs turning in his mind.

"Nothing important. It wasn't him, if you think he might be the one, and I doubt it's anyone _but_ her."

The gears came to a grinding halt, and Roland was once again left with nothing except a vague, unlikely idea. Assassins were barely a thing now, regardless. Spyro had made it law that murder was exclusively punishable via death itself unless the suspect in question was young, in which case they were immediately believed to lack the motivation to kill on purpose, or charged with gaol time. Most who'd wanted to kill someone for whatever reason had stopped thinking those thoughts. Apparently, according to some history texts he'd read, it'd been so much easier to commit murder back in those days because they simply couldn't track them down. The punishment then was no more than gaol time as well.

They'd started looking at fur and scale samples and most recently elemental signatures, though, using magic and technology to figure out what and who they belonged to, which made the process easier. However, that didn't stop the task from being tedious and stressful.

Roland wished he could get those detectives to help him track down the blue murderer, but they wouldn't listen to the Red Rodent. She'd just end up getting away with it, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Unless Drevon found Ashlyn first. Then there was bound to be bloodshed.

He wondered if anyone had found the blood left on the pavement, or if it'd washed away, down in the gutter, never to be remembered.

"Welp," Myrtle jumped off the seat, bending and stretching her limbs like a feline. She purred contentedly. Even Roland could feel the satisfying pop of her bones after sitting on the bench. It wasn't a seat made for dragons. His position looked especially weird, sitting on a little bit of his tail. Unfortunately, the plank was too thin to sit atop normally. "I think we should get going. Do you wanna head out tonight and go after one of those houses we have marked? You can choose."

"Sounds good to me. I'd like that."

It'd been too long since he'd gone on one of those house burglaries. He enjoyed them, the thrill, the danger. There was never a moment too boring. They never stole _much_ , but they always grabbed the most valuable object. And the one Roland had in mind right now held an expensive family heirloom, passed down by royalty long gone. It would be worth vast amounts of copper. They'd just need to find a fence to purchase it from them, so they could put it up on illegal markets.

He jumped off the seat, a new spring in his step. It was the first time he'd felt happy in quite a while. Not just passing joy, but happiness that remained. It was refreshing, to say the least.

He hoped it would keep up.

"Alright," Myrtle said, her smile unwavering. "Let's go h–"

A crack, like thunder on a doorstep, snapped her happiness in half, and the pair of dragons jumped. A splitting ache rushed through his head, then disappeared as quickly as it came. But the skies were clear. There was no storm.

That was an explosion.

It was close, perhaps only a few streets away. Roland stared from around the corner they were hiding in. Everyone outside had stopped to peer in the direction of noise, and people on their way to their jobs in the nearby factories dropped their masks.

"The fuck was that?" Myrtle spared him a wary glance. His ears rung, a triangle hit constantly inside his skull.

"It sounded like someone let a bomb go off..." Roland studied the direction it came from. Just as suddenly, another thunderous detonation went off in his ear-holes, far louder this time. Myrtle rushed out of the alleyway, uncaring for whether anyone she'd thieved from recognised her. He did hear a few gasps as he made his entrance, but most were focused on the bang.

Roland's attention was grasped and yanked by smoke billowing into the sky, a dense cloud of deep, dark purple fumes. When another explosion came, he could see the flames erupt over the top of several houses. He jumped back in fright when people started screaming.

He felt nauseous, a knot tying his stomach. Unnatural magic permeated the air, so much that he could taste it when he opened his mouth. It was indescribable on his tongue. It felt powerful, yet horrid.

There was a glow above the houses, not the orange of the building ablaze, but a deep violet, jagged and snatching. It seemed to claw through the air, fogging it with purple.

Myrtle was looking at it, too, realisation having dawned on her face. If anything, Roland hadn't expected this to happen so quickly. He didn't know what to think, otherwise.

Except that Drevon was over there, abusing the terrible power within him.

"W-we need to get over there," he said, above the voices raising around him.

"We do... but he's mad. I dunno if it's best we interfere, Roland. He could very easily kill us..."

He shook his head and started running towards the destruction. Myrtle followed, although hesitantly. She only wanted to protect him and herself, but Drevon would wreak havoc if they didn't do anything. He expected the guards on their way to be aggressive with the purple dragon, and that wouldn't end well for them or Drevon.

"Drevon's over there and I'm not letting him get away. If I could stop him from doing harm last time, I can do it again."

Myrtle lowered her gaze, then stared forward with determination. Roland knew he was right. He just needed to show his face and talk the dragon out of doing anything rash in his violent search for Ashlyn.

Some of the dragons left behind strode towards the cacophony of noise with him, but there were none as fast as him. Rounding the next corner, Roland saw the purple dragon and his handiwork.

Black tendrils rippled through the ground, smokey and unnatural, ripping the pavement asunder. Fire tore through the mansion he'd targeted. Roland had to stop for a second and realise just what Drevon was doing. Instantly, it seemed a terrible idea to rush in and grab his attention.

He remembered shortly that the house he was destroying was the building they'd tried to rob a while ago. The home Ashlyn had run off in...

The home he assumed she lived in now.

Was she already dead?

A concentrated beam of dark aether exploded from Drevon's maw, splitting the mansion and several houses behind it in half. Guards had already tried to intervene at this point, sticking spears and E.F.'s into the air. They yelled and yelled to the dragon, but their cries produced no response.

There were crowds of people, silenced by the dragon unleashing the full extent of his power upon the mansion. There was a murmur Roland could barely hear going around, of how they'd forgotten the purple dragon existed in their city, and how they remembered now the festival fourteen years ago. Nobody seemed to know what to do or say other than that. Fear had washed over them all, like waves on a beach.

Only when one guard finally loosed a shot did Drevon pay them any attention. Explosive fire burst from the barrel of the rifle, striking Drevon's skull. Normally, a shot so close would instantly kill a dragon.

Drevon was no ordinary dragon. He hadn't seemed interested at all in the people, just the building he'd destroyed. He'd been content with letting them watch, but now he stopped firing wildly upon the house and turned, so, so slowly.

Roland feared the glowing white eyes he stared down at those guards with, the cloudy black gas that followed him. The cheetah who'd done it lowered his weapon, shivering in his armour. Drevon alighted on the pavement crackling with black energy.

He snatched the cheetah's neck in his paw and blasted back into the sky in what was only a moment. The cheetah's helmet was knocked flying across the pavement, until it landed right at the front of the crowd. Roland looked to Myrtle before beginning to push his way through the people gasping at the display in front of them.

He looked up as he shoved past them. The guards didn't fire another shot, worried their partner would be killed in the firing. And considering the shot had only slightly hurt the purple dragon, they probably knew it was no use.

Drevon held that neck and squeezed tightly. The cheetah struggled in his grip, just like Seth had.

Roland tried so hard to get to the front of the crowd, but nobody moved. They'd rather watch this cheetah die in front of them.

Roland couldn't save him...

"No, Dre–" he tried to scream, but an audible crunch stopped him in his tracks.

Before he'd pushed past half the people, or even had the thought of flying over them all, the cheetah had stopped moving. But Drevon didn't stop there. He lifted the cheetah high into the air, as if he weighed no more than a feather, then slung his corpse into the pavement. Bones snapped, and people started screaming when Drevon slammed his body into another guard.

That was when the guards chose to shoot. But it was all in vain.

Drevon was too fast, too powerful, and their aim was off. He took a grown dragon in his paw and ravaged their throat through the thick plate mail. His entire leg went through the heart of a mole. He took the firearm of one cheetah and used it against him, blasting a crevice into his skull.

The people turned, panicked, shoving past Roland and Myrtle. The two dragons stood still, in utter shock. When Drevon was done with the guards, he turned on the people.

Roland didn't know who this dragon was.

This wasn't Drevon.

Drevon would never do this...

He opened his maw wide. Roland could see the dark aether growing in the back of his throat.

He shook his head and screamed to Myrtle.

"Get out of the way!"

He shoved her with all his body, landing right behind a carriage. It was of no use.

Roland's back burned, his body tumbling hard against the stone. Splinters needled blackened flesh. He fell to his stomach when his body hit a crumbling building behind him. The nightmare Drevon wrought upon the people of Firemore fell to deaf ears.

Nothing existed for a moment, but agony woke him from his unconscious state. He opened his mouth to cry in pain, but he was voiceless. Half of his body felt like it was on fire, the other oozed with warm blood. His wings were crushed, and he could swear he felt their bones protruding from places they shouldn't have. The entire membrane had snapped.

Roland took a single step, but felt groggy. His vision swam with a purple fog, waving aggressively from side to side. He couldn't see Drevon anywhere. He fell with a painful thud onto a sticky lump in front of him.

He looked down at his paws, washed in a deep red, and then further at the speckled green and black below him. Then he ripped his paws away from it, realising he was atop an unconscious, bloodied Myrtle.

Roland rubbed his eyes, trying to make sense of his surroundings, and ended up painting his face with her blood. He could barely feel anything but the pain rocketing through his body and his stomach churning at the feel of charred flesh.

He retched and fluids rose in his throat, but he managed to swallow it down. He started shaking Myrtle, who he couldn't see moving, breathing.

"M-Myr..." He tried to say her name, but his words were barely a croak. "Myrtle..."

He grunted in pain, his stomach clenching in response. A paw grasped over his gut, he realised he was bleeding profusely from wounds littering his body. Panic flowed through his veins, his mind alive like wildfire.

He desperately needed spirit gems, else he would die for trying to stop his best friend. His vision was weakening. His chest heaved with adrenaline.

Roland rushed as fast as he could to the wreckage of the trading carriage, crying every step of the way. He wasn't within sight of Drevon – at least, he thought he wasn't. He dug through piles of burning wood, searing his paws with each he threw away.

It didn't seem like there was anything. Everything had been smashed in Drevon's fury. Only wood, and a few odd bits of ashy clothing.

His grip wrapped around something sharp and round, and he sliced his paw open on it, only for the damage to heal in seconds. He felt as if his entire body was burning, now climbing atop the blazing wood to get a greater look. The red glow in his paw was reassuring, as was the light they cast across the wood.

He struggled to stand, but he was able to grab many, hopping off the trading carriage, smashing a few against the ground as he neared Myrtle again. A few measly spirit gems weren't enough to heal every injury he'd sustained – spirit gems would only go so far until he reached his limit – but his vision returning was a good sign he wasn't going to bleed out anymore. Sure enough, as bloody as his wounds were, no more dripped from his stomach. He was shaken, eyes heavy with exhaustion from blood loss, but he could move fine enough.

The screams had stopped by the time he could hear again. Their ashen forms were scattered across the street. The purple mist was thick now, to the point where he couldn't see Drevon and only two luminous whites eyes floating in the sky, staring into the destruction he'd wrought. The condensed magic in the air was enough to choke on.

He threw the gems onto the ground, next to Myrtle, who still wouldn't wake up. At least he could see her breathing now. They were swallowed by the dragoness' scales, and her wounds healed slightly. The crimson pool beneath her was terrifying, but it no longer grew larger. He hoped she would be okay. Shaking her again did nothing. He smashed the rest of the gems near them both, just in case it would help.

Determination flared in his golden eyes. Whether Myrtle was there or not, he had to confront Drevon. It was the only way.

He turned to move forward but was halted by a brown dragon running past him, disappearing into the purple mist. He almost fell as they pushed through everything in their way, the bodies and the crumbling street. He only had to wonder who for a second.

 _Seth_.

He followed the brown dragon as quickly as his red feet would take him, without injuring his body more, over the rubble and the sea of ashy corpses. He could just barely tolerate his wings, bent as they were.

"Seth, wait!" His voice was too hoarse to hear, and Seth only kept running. That, or the brown dragon was ignoring him. For what? Roland couldn't tell.

The red dragon looked into the sky. A vaporous black cloud swallowed Drevon's form whole. Roland could feel his entire body shivering. Strange, transparent waves warped his figure, twisting the very reality he stood in. It might've only been his eyes, but he saw everything stretching towards the purple dragon, even the inflexible stone of the spires in the fogged distance.

Seth ground to a halt right in front of the purple dragon, and Roland reached him moments later. Drevon didn't spare a glance for either of them, too focused on the magic he conjured. His dark wings were coiled tightly around his figure, yet he levitated without need of them. Seth looked up and yelled his name.

"Drevon!"

The purple dragon looked down and faltered at the sight of the brown dragon. His wings fell limp. The black gaseous vapour dissolved.

He slowly descended. Seth was waiting in stunned silence, as if he was expecting to be murdered on the spot. Roland couldn't tell what his intentions were at all. Why would he, of all people, come running back? The purple dragon was perhaps his worst fear.

"This is about me, isn't it?" the brown dragon said, voice quivering. He was confronting his fears. Roland just looked at him in shock. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done what I did. It was stupid of me for being afraid of you."

Roland tried to stop him, hissing his name, but Seth only looked back and shoved him away. "Leave this to me, Roland. This is my battle."

Roland shook his head. "N-no, Seth, you don't under–"

Drevon landed, silencing the red dragon. He stared into Seth's eyes. Roland could finally detect emotion within them.

It was almost... apologetic, with the way he stared into Seth.

The purple of his eyes soon returned. Roland couldn't believe it.

"L-look, I... I did some terrible things," Seth said, voice small. "I almost killed your sister. That'd be why you're angry, right?"

Drevon didn't say a word, only stared into his eyes.

"I c-can't take back what I did." Seth sighed. "I can try to make it right, though. Please accept. I want to start again."

He remained voiceless.

Seth teared up. "Please..."

The purple dragon didn't utter a word. Either he didn't know what to say, or he didn't want to say anything.

Now that Roland looked at him, Drevon hadn't really looked like he was listening. His eyes were judgemental, deeming Seth worthy.

He didn't answer for a long time. Seth seemed almost mad his response hadn't come.

"Are you going to answer me?" Seth asked. Roland clenched his teeth. "Did you even _listen_?"

Drevon licked his maw and breathed a silent sigh.

"You don't matter."

Seth took a few steps back, Drevon's warped tone scaring him off. The smoky vapour coiled around the purple dragon's form again. The violet iris vanished. His milky eyes stared blades into the brown dragon.

"You hurt me, Seth!" Drevon shouted, walking towards the brown dragon. Roland didn't even recognise his voice. It was like he was listening to a stranger, a monster even. He walked backwards with Seth as Drevon approached them. "You tortured me! You hurt my sister! And now she's dead. Part of that's on _you._ "

The tendrils gripping the stone phased through the ground, standing erect. They made a wall that Seth backed into. Roland didn't know what to say or do.

This wasn't his friend... It wasn't.

"D-Drevon," Roland said. "Please stop. You–"

Drevon shoved him out of the way. It didn't hurt him much, not physically. That push was just hope-consuming.

He watched from the ground as Drevon stormed towards Seth, violent eyes staring into Seth's brown. He stood inches away from him. Drevon was finally standing up...

But Roland didn't want this.

"I don't accept your apology," Drevon said. "How could I?"

Drevon wouldn't want this. Roland knew that. It wasn't him pulling the strings anymore. Surely not... This magic was just affecting his mind.

"Drevon, I–" Seth tried to speak, but Drevon cut him off when he took hold of the brown dragon's one remaining horn.

"Shut up."

Roland couldn't even gasp before Drevon ripped the other horn straight from its origin. Seth screamed in torment, blood gushing from his skull. He sunk to his knees and tried to grasp at what wasn't there.

Roland almost jumped over to stop Drevon from going further. Yet he was far too late. Drevon twisted the horn in his paw around so that sharp end faced Seth. He thrust it forward, penetrating the thin scales covering Seth's heart.

Seth stopped moving, stopped screaming. He fell to the ground with a dull thud.

Roland got to his feet. Seth lay unmoving. Life snapped in an instant. He looked to Drevon, his eyes shifting between the purple dragon and the brown figure lying dead on the stone.

Drevon had no remorse. He threw the blood-stained horn to the ground and crushed it under his foot. He moved away from the body and to the middle of the street, eyes closed. Roland rushed over to Seth.

His muzzle was drenched with blood. He would've died from his horn being torn out, but Drevon hadn't seen that as enough for his brown antagonist.

Memories flooded Roland's mind, old, of the times he and Seth shared alone. He didn't cry. He couldn't after what Seth had done to them all.

But this was undeserved.

That _wasn't_ Drevon...

It wasn't...

The smoky gas coiled around Drevon's form once again. There were guards rushing to the scene, but they were far too late.

"If I can't find you, Ashlyn," Drevon spoke. "I'll just have to kill all of you to do it."

The dragon's body glowed a violet hue. His eyes shined brighter than ever before. That magic started warping everything around it once again.

"Drevon!" Roland yelled into the sky. He never answered. "DREVON!"

He felt sick to the stomach. His mind swam. The very world around him started to coil, wrap in on itself. Roland didn't know where he was standing anymore. An orange glow consumed his vision.

" _Drevon_!"

And all fell silent.


	12. Calamity

Calamity

Roland cracked his eyes open. His whole being felt heavy. It all hurt so much... A water droplet landed on the centre of his forehead. The skies were starless, black. He could barely see a thing.

Where were the lights, the lamps that marked the way down Firemore?

Where was _everything_?

His mind was a mess, his head throbbing. He inhaled ash-laden air and spluttered painfully into his scarf. His vision eventually came to, though it felt like an open flame was being held to his eyes.

He struggled to get up, claws clumsily scraping against shattered stone. His feet could hardly tolerate the weight. His head hung low of its own accord.

His mind flared, more painfully than before. Fire. All he could see was fire. Screams. _Screaming_. It never ended, a cacophony of horror.

His visions... They were true?

He fell to his knees, landing in a puddle of rainwater. His body shivered. He felt so warm. Why was he shivering?

Roland lifted his head. Firemore, for the first time in aeons, was dark. Only the faint outline of spires lay in the distance. Everything smelt of wood burning.

The spires weren't intact, either. They were but a weak representation of the proud spires the city once held, broken beyond repair.

He placed a paw on a ruined stone brick next to him, using it to heave himself upright. He managed to get halfway there before the flames invaded his mind again.

Everything was burning. He felt like _he_ was burning.

A black cloud. Whites staring into his eyes.

Darkness.

He held onto that rock for support, determined to keep his mind from subjecting him to the pavement. Whatever muscles he had spasmed, shaking like weeds to a gale. He swayed from side to side. He could barely breathe.

It pained him. He barely had the willpower when he did try. It would've felt better to stop and die, allow his body to be consumed by the darkness and forgotten forever. But he pushed on.

Agony threatened to split his composure in two. His eyes misted over. Standing was just too much when he finally achieved it. He couldn't. He _couldn't_...

"N-no..." he said, voice hoarse. "I need to. I... am not dying."

He could see nothing, but felt everything spinning. "I..."

He felt ill. He leaned over, choking on the fluids trying to escape his throat. It burned, an acid to his gullet. He hacked into the stone below him until it came out in a disgusting heap.

Roland dropped to his rear, blankly staring into the substance spreading across the ground. He eventually looked up, though the negligible action of lifting his head hurt more than anything he'd ever experienced.

He could see it all so much better now. Firemore smouldered, suffocated of life. The stone was shattered, houses decimated. Odd orange crystals surrounded his body. He couldn't tell what they were or where they'd come from. They looked as though they'd broken, however.

His chest was very wet, too...

He didn't pay those things much mind. Perhaps the crystals had fallen out of someone's pockets, and it was probably the slight drizzle that wet his chest.

He noticed a lamp post near him, bent jaggedly in several places, flickering with dying light, an iron bench beside it. He tried his best to walk over, limping the whole way, letting out a cry with each pained step.

He recognised it as that same bench he'd sat on earlier, when he'd stopped chasing Carolin. Ashlyn's house must've been near it. He struggled atop the seat and leaned back into it, breath heaving.

He looked up a few moments later.

What had happened?

He tried to recollect the events in his mind. He saw a bright purple light, than darkness hit him like a bullet.

He didn't want to think it, but...

Had Drevon really destroyed it all?

He sniffed weakly at the air. That scent of magic, though faint, still lingered, though breathing it in only made him cough more from the ashes flitting through the air like dry leaves. He looked to the ground, his tail blade smacking something dry and hollow.

He reached down, nearly falling off the seat, to pick it up. It was unusually heavy, only because of his weakness. Blackened like the city of Firemore. It was difficult to tell what the dilapidated object was.

Then he realised it was a skull, the head of one of his kind. He shivered before dropping it to the ground. It turned to dust as it struck the pavement.

He look down at his own paws. He couldn't even tell he was himself, even in the flickering light. His scales were as black as charcoal, his miraculously unharmed scarf sooty. He even still had his pocket watch around his neck.

He didn't even realise it before, but Ashlyn's ring was clasped tightly in his paw. He'd protected its golden gleam, its sapphire beauty.

If only Ashlyn's heart was as beautiful as the ring. She'd caused this. She'd destroyed everything.

She'd killed everyone he loved.

He almost threw it away, but something stopped him. A strange desire even he couldn't explain. It wasn't the urge to avenge those he'd lost. He wasn't Drevon.

Was Myrtle gone? His only friend left? Was she...

"M-Myrtle?" he yelled with as much effort as he could. It was barely louder than a whisper. "A-are you there?"

No answer. He tried again, and yet his only response was the wind.

He couldn't see her anywhere. She was gone...

Roland wanted this to be a dream. He wanted to go back to his bed, and pretend the hell wrought upon his hometown wasn't real.

He hunched over, shaking. He wouldn't have cared if there had been anyone still watching. He sobbed, loudly, ungracefully, into the night sky.

Why was he still alive? Why didn't he die like everyone else?

At least then he could've been happy, drifting into the realm of the Ancestors.

A thought occurred to him. It was dark, and passed quickly. He had a blade, even if it was blunted by wear. Enough slashing, and...

"No!" he yelled to himself. "I'm not ending it here. M-Myrtle would want me to keep going."

He heard movement ahead of him and he looked up with teary eyes. A pile of debris in front of him quivered. Looking closer, he saw the form of a grown dragon. Even from this distance, Roland could see blood trickling from fatal wounds to his body.

"O-over there," the dragon smeared with ash said. "You. R-Red Rodent. Come... _here_."

He pointed to himself. The stranger nodded his head. Hesitantly, he climbed off the seat, swallowing the gathering ball in his throat.

He stopped by the stranger's face, eyeing him warily, as if he would jump out of the stone and murder him. He was far luckier than this dragon, who couldn't move a muscle. Blood flowed around him, coursing through gaps in the stone. A burnt, scarred satchel hung around his neck. It looked empty.

"My b-body is broken," he said. "I'm as good as dead."

"W-what do you want?" Roland asked, voice shaking. The dragon groaned, a mixture of annoyance and agony in his voice.

"Isn't it obvious?"

Roland shook his head, as did the dragon.

"It's okay... I... I-I shouldn't have expected you to know, anyway. Y-you're only a kid."

Roland sat down, paws shuffling awkwardly along the stone. His claws marked the ground with soot. "Tell me," he said, with a little more defiance in his voice. The dragon breathed in and spluttered on the ash and his injuries.

"I want you to kill me, Red Rodent."

Roland didn't move. His eyes never left that dragon's form. He didn't want to believe what he'd just heard.

"You... w-what?"

"You're so young... I thought you were older." The stranger almost laughed, but it came out as more of a splutter. Blood stained his mouth. "I'm not getting out of this mess. I'm on death's door. Spirit gems aren't gonna help anymore. I want you to end me."

Roland started shaking his head. "N-no, I can't, I... There's another way, surely."

Somehow, the dragon smiled. "Tell me your name, kid. Your real name."

On instinct, Roland almost denied the question, but a dying dragon wouldn't be there to tell anyone.

Everyone was dead now...

"R-Roland," he said. "M-my name's Roland Rivera."

"My name is Garv, Roland... I-I can't reach my neck with my tail blade or my claws. I'm gonna need you to do the honours."

Roland couldn't. He wouldn't ever. "No, I–"

"Please, Roland." Garv was reduced to begging. "You'd be... be doing me a s-service. This position... fucking hurts."

"I can find spirit gems, I c-can–"

"I can't even feel my lightning anymore," he said. "Th-they wouldn't work. I-I'm too weak for even them."

Tears streamed down Roland's face. He didn't know what to say anymore. He wanted to turn tail and run, but this dragon's begging gaze had his feet locked in place.

"L-listen." The stranger's voice was soft. Kind. Roland knelt down low. "I'll help you through everything. Just listen and do what I say, and I promise it'll only hurt for a few seconds. You would be doing me the biggest favour, Roland. I... want to see my kids again. I would be forever thankful."

Roland was reluctant, but nodded slowly a few seconds later.

"People see us as strong because we're huge, but... we're not very tough in reality," he started. "Our scales are thin and easily cut open. It's why we wear armour into battle. O-our weakest point is our neck. I-it's very flimsy. You've probably felt it before, f-felt how... _easily_ it could be sliced open. I want you to grab my neck, Roland. Softly, now."

Roland raised a shaking paw. Garv's kind voice guided his paw to his throat. Roland's heart hammered in his chest.

"You're doing well," Garv said. "Now–"

"I don't _want_ to!" Roland exclaimed, voice shaking. "I-I..."

"Listen to me!" he yelled back, hacking painfully after. "I _need_ you to do this. I'm very slowly bleeding out, but this hurts, Roland. It... _really_ hurts."

Roland started shaking his head again, letting go of the dragon. "N-no, I..."

" _Please_." Roland knew there was no better option for him. But he couldn't. He couldn't take a life.

Garv stared into his eyes, his yearn for death frightening.

"You can't hesitate to kill," he said. "Th-these walls were so safe, b-but... the world out there is dangerous. Very, v-very dangerous. You don't want t-to find yourself in a position where you have to take a life, but you _have to_ if it comes to it. Do not hesitate."

Garv sighed. "Please," he continued. "I need this."

Roland cried into his scarf more, reaching out once again. His entire body was shaking, but he had hold of Garv's neck.

He really did want this.

He couldn't just ignore this dragon's dying wish, in spite of how much his brain told him to sprint far away, on the legs that could barely carry him. If there was one thing Roland felt he could do before he collapsed from exhaustion, it was make one last person happy.

"Good," Garv coughed out. "Now, you see that claw there? On your index toe?"

Roland did see it. It was the sharpest of them all, the longest as well. It was the one he once used for weaving along a page, for drawing the words of his imagination. He couldn't begin to imagine drawing anything else with it

"Y-yes," he responded. He knew what was coming next, and he hated it.

"S-stay with me, Roland," Garv said. "Breathe for a moment. Try to avoid the ash."

He did as he was told, closing his eyes. In. Out. It would be quick. He'd be doing this dragon a service.

He would end that suffering.

"Good job," Garv praised. His voice remained calm and kind. He knew just how difficult this was. Roland looked into the dragon's tired green eyes. "Th-this is the hard part. It... w-won't hurt for long, I promise. I need you to stab me in the neck and make a swift incision all the way to the right. Can you do that?"

Roland swallowed the fear once again. "...Yes."

"Okay. _Do it_. That's it. Don't even think about it. Close your eyes. It's nothing, Roland. My neck is nothing to you."

Roland took a few seconds before he did as he was told. Darkness met his eyes once again. He breathed long, uneven breaths.

"It's like drawing a line. It's that easy."

He readied the claw, holding it inches from Garv's neck. His heart drummed against his chest. He took in a deep breath.

Just a line. Just a simple _line._

A snap of movement. He felt sick again, wet blood drenching his paw. Without another moment of hesitation, his claw tore the throat.

Garv tried to gasp, an instinctual response. Crimson stained Firemore. His body fell limp.

"Th-th-thank... y-you, R-Rol..."

His head fell to the ground with a dull thump. His eyes were still closing by the time he died. He only made it halfway. Roland couldn't help but stare into those half-closed, dead eyes.

He fell to the ground, his little heart shattered. He tried his best to hold it all in, but his crying only came out in waves.

He'd had the power to bring a life to an end once. He never wanted that power again.

" _Do not hesitate."_

* * *

Roland didn't know where to go. Everything was obscured by ash and smoke, but he could make it out of the city easily enough. That wasn't the issue.

Where _would_ he go, now that everything had been destroyed?

He didn't even want to move, knowing he'd taken a life. But he had come to the conclusion that he couldn't fret over what he'd done. There were more important things at paw. He couldn't just worry over that. He'd done Garv a favour.

He felt numb.

He'd travelled to the sewer entrance through the destroyed wall, but the pipe had been crushed. Even the mole holes led nowhere. He wanted to go back and see if his room was still intact, or if anyone had survived, but there was no way through and his group had never explored all of the sewers. Any entrance he knew of was sealed away.

Later, he tried to look for any sign of Myrtle, but she was nowhere to be found. Probably incinerated by the fire, just like the rest of them. His heart sank, but he had a small hope she was still out there. Nobody had been completely destroyed by the fire, and he couldn't find anyone that reminded him of Myrtle in the slightest.

Plus, Garv had lived, if not for long. Others probably had, too.

He felt like he'd been sitting on the iron bench for hours now, Garv's satchel hanging limp at his side, for he hadn't needed it anymore. He was hurt, thirsty, hungry, sick. A part of him kept telling him to curl up and go to sleep for the rest of eternity, but he wouldn't. His will to live knew no bounds.

He was just stuck. Without a direction. Without purpose.

It was a few minutes later when he decided to go questing for spirit gems. It was the main priority. They'd heal his wounds to a dull ache and restore some of his energy. Although his pain had already been subdued by time, his aching joints and broken wings weren't pleasant to walk around with. He could barely move the upper part of his body.

Roland wouldn't have been surprised if spirit gems didn't exist here anymore, but he had nothing better to do. He turned down the twisting streets of Firemore, trudging through seas of ruined stone and black, skeletal corpses. He never grew used to the crunch of bones beneath his feet. He tried his best to avoid them, yet couldn't help stepping on another skull every once in a while.

He was looking for a drop of colour, but Firemore was painted black and grey. After dusting some of the soot and ash off his body, he became a red speck amongst the black, the final drop of lifeblood. Even things he would've expected to have colour – torn banners, ripped fabric hanging from stalls – were devoid of colour and life.

Everything was just... dead.

"Yeah, that's... obvious, Roland." He was talking to himself, more than he usually did. He had no one left. He'd seen a few other people, alive, but they were just barely holding on. He didn't recognise them as one of his own, and so he tried his best to avoid them. Their forms were mangled. He swore he saw one with his limbs splayed everywhere. He didn't have the guts to approach them. He thought they would ask the same from him as Garv.

He was still shaking from that encounter, in spite of his attempts to make it seem negligible.

He searched and searched for spirit gems. He'd been through many districts of the city now, yet there was no sign of that red glow.

He felt so tired...

He bumped his head into a carriage. Awakened by the thud, he realised he'd come back around, all the way to Ashlyn's old home again. He sighed into the cart. He hadn't gotten anywhere...

Then a thought occurred to him.

"Wait, there were spirit gems inside, weren't there?" He felt strangely excited, and clambered on top of the cart. For the most part, it had survived the blast, and he didn't know how, despite being this close to it. How _had_ he survived, in spite of his distance?

All these other people should've lived, but him...

He didn't fret over it for now. He dug through the wood, excited by the prospect of finally being able to stand without pain.

When he saw that familiar red glow, he pumped a paw in victory, spouting a silent, "Yes..."

He grasped at one and felt that well-known energy radiating from within its tiny walls. It crunched in his paws. Through his veins a rejuvenating wave flowed. His wings cracked and quivered. Somehow, it wasn't painful. Only satisfying.

"Ouch," he exclaimed as he flapped his wings. A spike of pain shot through them. At least he could move them now, but they'd probably still need time to heal. He grabbed at another spirit gem and crushed it without hesitation. Then he grabbed another.

He stopped himself before he grabbed at a fourth. Using too many wouldn't do him any good. Instead, he took whatever was left, two smaller, weak gemstones, and shoved them deep into Garv's satchel, along with his pocket watch.

He squinted at Ashlyn's ring still enclosed within his paw, his deep reflection in the sapphire staring back at him. It was the first time he'd gotten a look at his face. Even if he couldn't see himself clearly, he _could_ see just how much of a mess he was.

His eyes were shot with red and a deep scar carved his right eye in two, dry with his blood. It sort of reminded him of the one Myrtle had, though hers was a horizontal slash across both of her eye of which he didn't know the story of. He had a missing fang or two, and his nose had clearly been bleeding. He hadn't noticed it all before, his focus on the pain coursing through his entire being. Several scales were lined with cracks. His horns were a little chipped, but surprisingly, they were the most intact part of his skull.

He threw the ring in with the rest of the stuff, forgetting about it, and did the buckles on the leather satchel up again. He'd never really cared much for his appearance anyway. He wasn't exactly a looker, and he knew that. Just his attenuated figure would drive off anyone. At least he still had Seth's scarf. He quite liked how it looked on him.

He shook his head. He knew now wasn't the time to think such thoughts. There were far better things to put his mind on.

Like where he was supposed to be going.

He looked beside him, to the house – or what was left of it – that Ashlyn had probably lived in. His thoughts drew him there. Slowly, hesitantly, he stepped towards the incinerated mansion.

It was the most damaged building on the street. One wall was left standing and there were a few fragments of the building still laying about. The flooring had burnt away. Nothing of note was left, except for a few singed papers trembling in the breeze. He decided to look at them.

He tripped a few times on stray boards littering the ground before reaching them. He took one in his paws, squinting at it. It was barely recognisable. Anything that'd been written or drawn on it had melted away in the blast, and now the ink mushed the page. He threw the wet paper away, picking up another. Same story.

The third he picked up was different, though. Despite a few burnt corners, it remained intact. A lucky survivor of the blast, just like him. It was a very familiar drawing, too.

Two dragons, staring into the night sky, next to each other. He wished he still had someone, like the dragons in the picture. It was... really well-drawn.

He assumed it was by Ashlyn. She must've been a very skilled artist. With the amount of time she had spent drawing the same image, she must've thought this was very important. He thought he recognised her in the picture, the smaller of the dragons. The sleek horns, the thin build, even the shape of the tail blade before it'd been destroyed beneath the desk, resembled her to a T, only she was smaller than she was now.

He wanted to keep it, but he didn't know why, other than that it was a good picture. A memento of what happened in Firemore, he guessed. At least she'd done something good with her life, even if it meant nothing in the end. He folded it a few times and picked away the burnt spots before keeping it inside his satchel.

Something shifted then. Floorboards on the ground. He couldn't tell where the noise was coming from, but it was very close to him.

"Hello?" he said. "Is anyone there?"

A voice laughed quietly. "Yes, Roland. Hello."

He turned around. A large blue dragon towered over him. Roland didn't recognise him, but somehow he knew his true name.

"You look confused. It's almost like you don't remember who I am."

"I... have no idea who you are," Roland responded. "H-how do you know my name?"

"You really don't remember?" he asked. "The night of that little heist you tried to perform right here, in my own house? You don't remember _me_?"

Roland's heart skipped a beat. He took a few steps back.

That dragon, the one who'd thrown Myrtle, tortured Drevon with fear...

"Ah, I see the realisation on your face now. You aren't as forgetful as I thought, then."

"N-no," he muttered, turning around. He lifted a leg to sprint away, far away, but he was tripped up by the tail of the older dragon. Roland felt his body leave the ground, his neck clutched in the blue dragon's paw.

The blue dragon laughed again. "I thought that explosion would've killed you, like everyone else. I guess you're luckier than I thought."

"L-let go!" He twisted his body back and forth, his throat snatched by the dragon.

"The rat's been caught," the blue dragon said, even going so far as to yawn. It really had been that easy. "Would you do the honours, Ashlyn?"

Roland stopped squirming, faltering. His eyes darted around the ruins until they met the figure of a blue dragoness pacing out from behind the shadows of a shattered wall.

She didn't look the least bit interested until her eyes met Roland's. She stopped and gaped. Roland did the same.

"Get over here, girl. Hurry up. Kill him."

Ashlyn didn't move an inch. She was shaking her head. How did she and the blue dragon survive?

"Ashlyn."

"N-n-no, dad, I–"

Ashlyn's father stamped over to her, paw suffocating the red dragon in his grip. Roland grasped at the blue dragon's paws to pull them away. His physical ineptitude made it impossible.

"I said _kill him,_ you stupid girl."

"No!" she shouted back. She shivered as if she were freezing. "Let him _go_!"

The blue dragon shook with rage, swiping his paw across Ashlyn's cheek. "You fucking listen to me! You _do not_ defy me!"

She clutched her bleeding cheek. Her legs buckled. "N-no..."

"Fine!" He stared Roland directly in the eye. "I'll do it myself!"

"NO!" Ashlyn leaped into the air. But she was too late to do anything about it. The blue dragon lifted Roland high into the air and threw him straight into the floorboards.

There was a crack, and Roland's world went dark.

* * *

The brush of leaves tickling Roland's facial scales woke him from his slumber. He groaned, and as if those spirit gems had been entirely worthless before, his entire body hurt, mostly his head, which throbbed uncomfortably. He sat up and put a paw against his forehead, groaning, avoiding low-hanging branches obscuring his view.

He looked ahead, and his first question was where in the Dragon Realms was he? Grass swished gently in the breeze, trees creaked against each other. The wind was an unsettling murmur. His back was to a log. It reminded him greatly of the woods near Firemore, but if it was, he had never been in this deep. He couldn't see the night sky through the dense canopy above. Only a star or two twinkled through the leaves.

Shrubs and bushes amongst the grass crinkled with movement. His groggy gaze met the shifting plants, a blue figure emerging from within them.

It took him a while to realise he was staring at Ashlyn.

"Y-you're finally awake," she whispered. "I–"

He was snapped out his exhaustion and backed swiftly away from the blue dragoness. Fear, hatred clouded his vision. Did she take him out here? What did she want with him?

Was she trying to kill him?

"S-stay away!" he shouted. "I'll–"

Ashlyn rushed up to him and put a shaking paw against his muzzle. "Roland, I'm trying to help you!" she hissed. "Be quiet!"

He didn't believe her. He couldn't, not after...

She was going to pump his head full of magic, wasn't she? He was going to die.

All of Firemore, gone. He'd believed he could get through it. But now...

He ripped her paw off his muzzle and stood, turning tail and trying to sprint away from her. Her claws, however, latched onto his tail and she dragged him back. His legs hurt so much... What had she done to him?!

"Roland, st–"

"Get away, you fucking monster!" he screamed. "Let me _go_!"

"ROLAND!" She didn't speak loudly, but her tone was forceful nonetheless. Even in total panic, her commanding nature ground his thoughts to a halt. "I am _not_ going to kill you! Be quiet! My dad is coming after us both, and if he finds us, you're as good as dead!"

"Y-you–" He didn't get a chance to let the words out; Ashlyn had him completely petrified.

"I-I will explain everything later..." she said. Even if she was assertive, her voice shook with apprehension. "Just... b-be quiet for now. I'm trying to help you, Roland."

Was she? Was that a lie?

He thought on it. He remembered her father throwing him to the ground, and not much else. Ashlyn had seemed pretty against the idea of respecting her father's wishes, though.

Hadn't she tried to jump after him?

"W-why..." he murmured, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Why are you helping me?"

"I will explain _later_ ," she repeated. " _P-please_ be quiet, Roland."

She sat beside him, about a metre away, but despite that distance, he could feel her shivering. She wasn't cold. An ice dragon wouldn't get cold, not in temperatures like this.

He was about to ask her another question, but decided against it. She _was_ trying to help him, he knew now. But he wanted to know why. Why had she killed Carolin? Why had she turned his best friend to corruption and destroyed everything he held dear?

Roland kept a very close eye on her. He couldn't ever trust anyone again. The more he looked at her, though, the more she seemed to shake...

The padding of heavy paws met his ears. It was far, but he heard branches crunch and leaves rattle as they were shoved apart. Her father was coming after him. He ducked and studied the area for a hiding place.

Ashlyn tucked herself away into a small hollow in the log behind them. He crawled into one of the many holes himself, just big enough for him. Ashlyn was visible inside, the entire tree carved out by what had probably been an animal.

His breath was warm against his paws, and it sounded so loud to him. He tried to calm himself, but the fear flowing through his veins blocked the way to silencing his voice. He glanced at Ashlyn beside him, and despite the darkness, he could see she was having the same exact issue.

Her father... Was he the one behind her actions?

Why did she want to get away from him?

A branch snapped, not far from the hollow log, and the moving stopped. Ashlyn placed a paw over her muzzle, and Roland followed her actions. It didn't help much. He tried to just hold it in.

"Come out, you stupid girl. I will find you again. You know I will. And if you don't come out right now, you know exactly what I'll do. Do you have any idea what Mum would say?"

He wasn't in a position to crawl out of the log and run deep into the forest, away from the words that made him shiver. Blue legs shifted past the log. He had to stop himself from gasping.

He put a paw over his muzzle, thinking even that would alert the dragon to his presence. Twigs cracked beneath the paws in front of him. They stopped, and Roland swallowed the saliva in his throat.

"You're here somewhere. I can hear you breathing, Ashlyn."

The paws walked away from Roland. Almost, he let out a breath of relief, but he was able to keep it in for fear the hunter would come back. He noticed they stopped again in front of Ashlyn. Legs bending, reaching down. Roland sank deeper into the hollow.

The movement was quicker than Roland could've expected. Claws like lightning snatched Ashlyn out of the log. She struggled in his grip, Roland having a clear view from the hollow. He couldn't see the face of the blue monster, but hers was visible, and the shock and fear sketched across her features shook him.

"All you needed to do was get rid of him," the stranger hissed. "We can't have any witnesses. The Guardians of Warfang don't need _you_ ruining their endeavours!"

"D-Dad!" she choked, her throat clasped in his paws. "L-let–"

"I think it's about time I taught you your place." He started moving again. Ashlyn had already stopped kicking, but she wasn't unconscious yet. Roland could see the dragon in full view now, his back to him. Roland's breath was caught in his throat.

" _Dad_!" she screamed. " _Stop_!"

"Shut your mouth, girl."

He pushed the blue dragoness into a tree. She tried to scramble away, but he was too strong. He lifted his fist high into the air, and struck her across the cheek. There was an audible thunk and she groaned in pain.

She didn't try to move anymore. She had already accepted her fate.

Roland shuddered, watching with terror. Another punch. Ashlyn bled from her nose. The black ring around her eye deepened. Another one. Her head swayed, eyes heavy. Roland cowered behind his cover.

"I've done so much for you!" the blue dragon yelled. "So _much_! And you can't even do one simple thing without _fucking everything else up_! He needed to die, but you let him get away! Why, Ashlyn?! Were you befriending them!?"

"D-D-Dad..." she tried to exclaim, tone weak. The blue dragon didn't even seem to care. He raised his fist again.

"We had a conversation. I told you _exactly_ what would happen if you didn't follow instructions. And you couldn't even follow them. You're as worthless as your mother."

"N-no, sh–"

"I told you to shut your mouth!" The blue dragon hit her again, yet this time it was an audible slap across the cheek. "Not only did you fail to kill him, you also ran away with him! Is he your new boyfriend? When I find him, I'm going to _gut him_ myself."

Roland curled into the tightest ball he could. He would be found. He would die. He knew he would. After the dragon was done with Ashlyn, he was next.

"You don't deserve another chance, Ashlyn."

Roland thought he could see Ashlyn staring at him. Her face was all bloody and her eyes were darkened by the bruises around them, but he could see those eyes staring fearfully back at him. His maw parted slightly.

"I'm going to hurt you. I'm going to teach you a lesson I should've long ago."

Ashlyn's eyes shot towards his. She knew exactly what he spoke of, Roland could tell. She backed further into the tree, cowering before the beast in front of her.

But Roland was done hiding. He needed that power to hurt. _One last time..._

He needed to do something. He couldn't just leave her like this. He couldn't watch him do this to her. Ashlyn had tried to save him in what had almost been his last moments, and he'd be damned if he didn't do anything to rescue her, even if it hurt him, even if it killed him.

That was what he thought would happen anyway. He had to give it a shot. None of this was her fault, he realised.

It _wasn't hers..._

He wouldn't give himself up, but he would go down fighting. He always would.

Roland sneaked out of the hollow, heart hammering against his rib cage. He licked his maw and drew what he thought would be his final breath. Ashlyn's eyes flicked to his and she shook her head. Her father didn't notice. Roland crouched into the grass, then leaped with all the might he had.

He flapped his wings twice, and with as fierce a bite as he could muster, latched onto the blue dragon's neck from behind. He didn't need any strength. His fangs did all the work.

Ashlyn's father flinched in pain, twisting his neck back with a roar. Roland despised the taste of dragon blood in his mouth, like drinking liquid iron without the heat. It dribbled down his chin, dripping into the grass. He heard Ashlyn's gasp between the panic, but what he'd been hoping for didn't happen. She didn't run, try to get away from the abuse her father inflicted upon her. She was too shocked by his actions.

It wasn't long before Roland was shaken off. The blue dragon clutched his neck with the talon upon his wing. He growled, staring back at Roland with malice. Even if the monster in front of him was of the ice element, the flames set in his crimson eyes seemed to speak otherwise.

"I already knew you were in there, Roland. I just wasn't expecting you to come out."

The blue dragon laughed despite the blood coursing down his neck, the pain flowing through him. Roland stepped back, legs quivering.

"You made a mistake."

A scream tore through the night sky, shaking the canopy. Twigs snapped as a gust of air pushed the three dragons into the ground. Roland barely managed to stay up; it as if a wind Guardian had summoned a hurricane. He looked above him to find none other than an animal staring at the blue dragon from above, beady yellow eyes set on him. Roland trembled at the ear-shattering screech, but Ashlyn's father shuddered in terror.

The ground seemed to shake as it landed, delivering yet another scream that forced the blue dragon to back off, into the forest, away from the younger dragons. Ashlyn covered her ear-holes with her paws, as did Roland.

"G-get away from me, beast!" he yelled. "G-get awa–"

The dreadwing roared, and the blue dragon turned and ran before Roland could blink, fear magic jolting through his system. The red dragon looked to the empty space he'd left behind, and then to the dreadwing in front of him. He blinked rapidly a few times, confusion coursing through his mind.

Then it occurred to him this dreadwing was none other than Bone Grinder. He saw the sapphire necklace hanging around his furred neck, the stone tag marked with his name. The creature had been waiting for him in the forest the whole time, and he hadn't come back until now.

Bone Grinder stamped over to him, and if a dreadwing could show concern, this one definitely did. Roland was fine, other than trying to realise his terror was for nothing now. He looked to Ashlyn, who hadn't yet moved, other than her shivering, studying the leaves at her feet.

"I-I'm sorry I didn't come back. My curiosity just disappeared after..." He stopped. The dreadwing seemed to understand. He sighed. "You've... probably seen what's happened to Firemore. Everything is gone."

Bone Grinder hummed in understanding. Roland looked back at Ashlyn. She still hadn't moved a muscle. He slowly trod over to her. She didn't meet his gaze. He opened his maw, breathing a shaky breath, then knelt down and opened his satchel, fishing for one of the two spirit gems inside.

"Crush this," he said, handing it to her. It reminded him of the time she'd given him a spirit gem. It was as if she'd been wanting to help all this time. The robbery, the words she'd spoken about Drevon and Seth, her overall kindness...

She'd wanted them all to be happy before she laid her claws on Carolin. She'd never wanted to do it. He'd seen her with Carolin, and it was obvious she'd just wanted to be friends.

Ashlyn had just never had a choice in any of this. And that disgusted Roland.

The spirit gem crunched between her paws, magic particles floating around her facial scales. Her face was red with blood, and her bruising didn't heal much, but she didn't seem to be dealing with any more than a tolerable ache now.

"Are you... okay?" he asked. "I know, it's a stupid question, but..."

"I-I am so, _so_ sorry, Roland..." She shook her head, gazing into him. She wasn't crying, but she seemed to struggle not to. "This is my fault. It all is. I did all this..."

Roland shook his head, sitting down in front of her. "N-no, I... I don't believe that. Not anymore. It was your dad all this time. Y-you... You saved me... You didn't want to to kill her, did you?"

She didn't answer, but he was able to take it as a yes. The dreadwing behind him didn't seem to come near them, as if he was trying to respect their privacy.

"But why, Ashlyn?" he questioned. "Why did _he_ want to?"

She swallowed, breathing hard. Roland opened his mouth again.

"You don't have to answer now." He looked around him. Ashlyn's father hadn't returned yet. He hoped he wouldn't for a long time, so they had time to leave. "I know it's night and you're tired and hurt, and _I'm_ curious, but... it's probably best if we go deeper into the forest so he can't find us again."

She nodded slowly. "Y-yeah..."

"C'mon," he offered her his paw. She took it and lifted herself from the forest floor, wiping the blood from her cheek. "Let's get going. We'll get away from that monster. We'll make sure we never see him again."


	13. Beyond Firemore

Beyond Firemore

The world was silent, except for the occasional chirp of insects in the undergrowth, and Roland's heavy breathing. He'd spent what felt like an hour running and now he finally had the chance to rest. The gloom of night stretched its dark fingers across the land, visible through the dying leaves above. He sat near the edge of the forest and close to him was the Faymaw, a gaping mouth of water that stretched fifty feet across. It was Firemore's main source of water – or, at least, had been – flowing down the valleys and past Midrun, a small fishing town on the coast.

Roland slumped against the bark of a tree, hesitantly deciding how to start conversation with the dragoness a few metres from him, who scrutinised the fallen leaves and sticks. Her face was set, neutral. She didn't seem scared anymore, so that was a plus. They hadn't heard the blue monster coming after them, so hopefully he was far away now.

But they didn't take any chances. They hadn't constructed a campfire, for they didn't want to be found. The only light came from the display above. Roland stared up, into the stars he could eye through the now thin canopy. The celestial moons were two enormous eyes in the centre of the sky, gazing into the land far below. Faint reds and greens adorned the skies, curling amongst the stars. He wondered if Ashlyn liked the stars. Maybe that would be a good talking point. Considering that picture he'd picked up was hers, of those dragons gazing into the night, he assumed so.

He didn't feel ready to talk yet himself. He was still pondering the events in Firemore. He'd killed a dragon. Everything he'd known was now memory. He took it as best as he could, though. He tried his best to keep his thoughts from wandering there. All he could do was move on. He'd been doing that his whole life.

He felt uncomfortable. He saw this dragoness in front of him, a murderer of a little girl, a good friend of his, and just didn't know what to say.

It had been her fault that Firemore was gone... But was it really _her_ fault?

Roland didn't know. That was what he needed to find out.

He had a thought. He opened his satchel and scanned the page he'd been thinking about, the dreadwing that'd called him a friend looking over his shoulder. Bone Grinder looked at Ashlyn for a split second, seeming to realise she was feeling down. Surprisingly, she hadn't reacted over the fact the beast was still with them, and even looked thankful he had saved the two of them just in time. She was engrossed by her thoughts more so, however.

Roland looked to dreadwing and frowned. Bone Grinder hummed, in a more sorrowful way than he expected. "You keep surprising me," Roland whispered. "You're a lot smarter than you look. It's like you know how we feel."

He didn't know whether the creature took it as an insult or a compliment, or maybe even neither, but he didn't seem to care too much at the moment. Bone Grinder eyed Ashlyn with what was probably pity. Then, he made his move.

"What are you..." Roland didn't finish his hushed sentence, for the dreadwing wouldn't hear him. Bone Grinder paced over to Ashlyn, a deep thud in his step. He wanted to cheer her up. His presence alone probably wouldn't make her happy, though.

She didn't even notice the dreadwing walking over, but when he sat down right beside her, looking at her with deep yellow eyes, she jumped, startled.

"W-woah!" She backed away a bit, but the tree behind her spine stopped her. "D-don't..."

She stopped when she stared into those eyes. Roland decided to move over as well at that moment. He got up, cracked his back, and walked to her. Ashlyn didn't turn her gaze to him, more focused on the dreadwing peering into her.

Roland sat in front of her. He still needed an explanation, but he could start by cheering her up.

"He's friendly, don't worry," Roland said, the paper still folded in his paws. "At least, I think he is."

Ashlyn nodded slowly. She eyed the slip of paper with curiosity. "Y-yeah, it's... j-just a little weird sitting next to something that could rip me apart in seconds."

"How do you think I felt when he came running after me?" He smiled a little. "He shoved me into a tree and everything, picked me up by my leg covered in frogweed acid..."

Bone Grinder stared ahead nonchalantly. Roland pouted.

"Weird animal... I wonder who you actually belong to."

"Same," Ashlyn replied, itching her chin. "Why would a wild animal just come along and like you but no one else? Well, until you tell it they're a friend, that is."

"No clue." He shrugged. "I hope I can find out soon. I have so many questions on my mind..."

His words stopped Ashlyn in her place, but she just went back to staring at the leaves littered across the forest floor, the flecks of dirt on her paws. Usually she'd try to clean herself. There was still red on her cheek, and her body was covered in dirt and stray twigs, just like his, but she didn't seem to care this night.

He scratched the back of his head. He didn't know how to feel around her. He wasn't dead, at least.

He wasn't dead _because of her_ he realised. She'd wanted him alive. It was obvious she didn't want to kill him. The thought struck him as stupid when he thought over what he'd witnessed a while ago.

She was trying her best to be friendly. That he could tell. She was trying her _best_.

Roland sighed and looked up again, at the stars of the night twinkling like little beads of gold, at the colours swirling and spiralling across the great black canvas. He took the paper in his paws and folded it out. Somehow, it sort of seemed to represent the area they were sitting in right now. There was a small cliff that led into the grasslands of Firemore up ahead and there the stars would shine brightest, like the ones in the drawing. Ashlyn looked to the paper in his paws and then also to her satchel, remembering she had none in it.

"You're an artist, aren't you?" he asked, showing her the drawing. Her maw parted at just the sight of it, and then she reached out for it with her paws. He gladly let her have it. It wasn't his to keep. "It's a really nice drawing. You're pretty skilled. I can't even draw anything, let alone a _dragon_. I'm not good at anatomy or anything."

"Where did you find this?" She stared in awe, as if it shouldn't have existed. She must've been expecting all her work to disintegrate in the blast.

He smiled a little. She seemed a lot happier that one of her pieces had survived. "On the ground in your house. I saw it and I kind of wanted to keep it, but now that you're here..."

"Well, thanks. This one... does mean a lot to me."

He walked beside her so he could look at the picture, too. Bone Grinder was intrigued and studied it over the both of them. Roland's eyes were set on the smaller dragon. "I'm guessing that's supposed to be you in the picture?"

"Y-yeah, I was a lot younger then," she answered. "You can probably recognise the shape of the horns."

Ashlyn's horns were sharp and curled up a tiny bit at the end. He could see that through a line that added depth to her appearance. "Yeah. And... who's the other one?"

"That was... Mum."

Her face sorrowed at the words. The dreadwing hummed again, sadly. Roland nodded slowly. He could guess what had happened.

"Your mother must've meant a lot to you," he said, voice small. "I'm sorry about... whatever happened."

"I-it's okay." She shrugged. It didn't happen recently, that much was obvious. How long had Ashlyn been dealing with her father, without proper family? "It was a thunderstorm near Shimmervale. We were travelling to Warfang, and... she was struck out of the air. Struck by lightning. It was really stormy, and... yeah."

"I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to make this conversation... painful." Roland looked down for a moment. Ashlyn just exhaled.

"You deserve to know after everything I did."

"I... would like an explanation of why you killed Carolin," he said. "Why your father wanted that."

Ashlyn slumped deeper into the tree she was against. The dreadwing beside them laid on his stomach, resting his head on the ground, listening closely. Roland looked towards her, but she couldn't meet his gaze.

He needed to figure this out. It was the first step...

He really didn't want to hate her, not anymore. After the blue dragon, he simply couldn't.

He turned to the forest's edge and an idea came to him. He hoped it would make it easier for her to explain her actions. "Do you like looking at the stars?" he asked. Ashlyn frowned.

"Yeah, I... I guess. Why?"

"Why don't we go out there, to that cliff face?" He got to his feet, hoping she would come despite her answer. "I find I can think a lot easier when I look at them."

"...Sure. Why not?"

He smiled weakly before turning to the dreadwing. "Bone Grinder, stay. Do you understand that?"

Fluffy nodded slowly, although in disappointment. Hopefully he did know what the red dragon meant.

The pair of dragons walked through past the few trees and to the cliff face. Right here, he could see the stars in their full, unrivalled beauty. Some would say each was an Ancestor, looking down upon the world, holding and cradling those sorrowed and hurt tight. It was reassuring to think about that, that someone was always there to care. Roland wondered if Carolin had joined the Ancestors for their midnight watch.

He hoped so. He hoped she was living life far better up there. It was true happiness up there. A pessimistic soul might've said that that sounded boring, but that was nothing but perfection to Roland. In the end, all he'd ever wanted was for everyone to be happy.

He wanted the dragoness beside him to be happy as well. She was troubled. Troubled by what she did and what caused it.

Ashlyn was transfixed by the stars and he wondered if she was pondering the same things as he. Roland cleared his throat, and Ashlyn snapped out of the trance the lights were putting her in.

"I... don't know where to start," she said. "How do I..."

"Just say what comes to mind. I don't mind, as long I know what's happened and why you did it."

"Well... I guess I'll begin at the start. It was part of a much bigger plot than just murdering someone. Guardians have so much magical energy, enough that they can feel aether in the air as long as they're not bothered by something. Everyone forgot a purple dragon existed, and not many knew anyway, because the ceremony held for the purple dragon ended up being very small. If they did know, then they didn't want to be around a purple dragon, not after Malefor. Not after Spyro."

"Yeah, I know all this." Roland nodded. "Why are you telling me this?"

Ashlyn shifted in place. "W-well... the Guardians of Warfang weren't really in the right mind. I've heard rumours they fell victim to the effects of dark aether and survived, but I don't know if that's true. They knew a purple dragon existed by the magic in the air, and right as Drevon was born, they wanted him to turn to the dark."

"Why would they want _that_? Are they trying to finish what the Dark Master started?"

"I-I don't know." She shook her head. "My dad, Aurus, was originally a part of the guard in Warfang before the Guardians approached him, and was an assassin by night, despite the difficulties that caused. He was loyal to one of them: Terran, the earth Guardian. She wasn't my mum, but my mother suspected he was in a secret relationship with her. The way he acted around her, stuff like that."

Sometimes Roland thought about his father doing things like that to his mother. When he thought long and hard about his past, his father, while he'd tried to seem as happy and caring as possible, had never really felt all that trustworthy. He understood Ashlyn's feelings.

"He'd been killing for a long time, and when Terran found out about that, she saw an opportunity to use him. So my dad and I moved to Firemore," she explained. "They gave us a mansion to stay in with a bunker under a trap door so we could survive if disaster struck when Drevon turned. H-he... He was tasked with assassinating Carolin, to get the purple dragon to _that_ point. And he just accepted that. He was used to it. Terran was always... alluring to him, and she knew that. She promised h-he could sleep with her when he came back, and he was completely fine with that as a reward. They were also going to give him spirit gems. He was addicted to them, too. I think they're might've been more than that, but... I-I don't know."

Roland shuffled a little closer. He didn't like to be around when she lost her composure and fires were set beneath her feet, but he felt she needed some support.

She was a murderer... but she never wanted it. It was forced atop her, and she could barely do a thing about it.

"Before we came to Firemore, h-he... tried to shove it all on me. All the assassinating. I couldn't ever do it, and I had to bring whoever he wanted back to him." He could feel her quiver beside him. "But my dad didn't like that. Didn't like getting his paws dirty. Eventually... h-he made me do it to Carolin. You didn't see him... but he was there, watching."

Roland knew where this was going now, and Ashlyn realised that he knew, too. "I see..."

She looked at her paws, inhaling, trying to calm herself. It didn't seem to work. "It was so hard, listening to Carolin beg to let her go. I didn't want to kill her. I didn't... But I did. I had to." She gulped down the ball gathering in her throat. "H-he threatened to hurt me whenever I didn't listen to him, and he did. He kept promising he would... d-do _things_ to me, but he never did that. He was scaring the shit out of me. And he was always like that, but when we moved to Firemore, it just... e-escalated. He didn't care about anyone but himself a-and... fucking that green bitch!"

"That's horrible." Roland looked at her apologetically. "Y-you don't have to tell me about all these things if you don't want to. I don't mind being there to listen, but you can stop if it hurts you to think about all this."

"Y-yeah, you're right... I'm getting mad thinking about it. S-sorry..."

"It's okay. I just wanna know why they wanted Carolin dead and Drevon angry."

"Well... I don't know. I don't really know much about why the Guardians wanted Drevon to turn, but... I guess they got what they wanted. And... I-I gave it to them. I'm terrible. I should've ran when I had the chance... I could've stopped all of this. Firemore's gone, and that's on me..."

"No, it's not on _you_ ," Roland said. "You..."

"You don't _understand_." She shook her head. "I had so many opportunities to just get up and _run away_ , but I didn't take a single one of them. I was too scared of what he would do to me, and now I've destroyed an _entire city_ because of that..."

Roland looked down, into the leaves scattered around them. She brought up a good point. But he felt he had a better one.

"People... don't usually talk about this kind of thing. Or write about it for that matter. So, I've had a hard time learning about it, and what people do in these situations." He picked at the dirt between his scales. "I tried to figure out what my father was doing with my mum way back, and I think I did eventually come to... sort of an answer."

She exhaled. "I thought it would get better if I just tried to love him more, but it never did. Well, sometimes he'd be really nice, and then he would just change back... I don't know what was with that. I don't think I can ever love him now. I don't ever want to go back."

"That's what some manipulative people do. It's what made my mum stay, because she thought it would get better." Roland sighed. "Being scared of what someone might do if you don't do as you're told is understandable, Ashlyn. Just thinking about the things my dad used to say to my mum... It's just hard to blame it on you after what your father has done to you. I'm smarter than that. I've seen someone else go through a sort of similar thing and it's made me understand why and how people go through this."

"But, Roland, I–"

"Did you ever try to get away from him?" he asked. Ashlyn nodded quickly.

"Y-yeah, I tried several times, when I built up the courage, but... that was a long time ago. He found me all those times. I never got far, because he was always watching me. And he had friends in the guard who were always watching the walls, so if I ever left... I could've tried again. Roland, I could've tried again! I could've, and–"

"Maybe you could've tried again, but, if anything, you didn't want this at all." He smiled slightly. "And if you were stuck like that, then I can't really blame you for anything, Ashlyn. Plus... you saved me from Aurus, and I need to thank you somehow for that."

She didn't look at him.

"I think you deserve a second chance," he said. "I... I don't want to hate you, Ashlyn. I don't want to be out here alone. I was angry before, but... now I just feel confused. Weak.

Ashlyn didn't really seem like she believed him, but his kind words did make her smile, if only weakly. "Well, it's understandable you were angry, I..."

She trailed off. Roland opened his mouth a few seconds later. "You know, if you'd talked to us, we could've helped you get away. We did know a few people. But I understand why you don't think you could've. I know you had nothing to do with this. It's done now. It's in the past. We've gotta move on. We did the best we could, and... now Firemore's gone. We've gotta live with that."

She didn't say another word. He hoped he'd gotten through to her. He really didn't believe she was at fault anymore. Of course, she'd done the deed, and did have agency over her decisions, but she'd been put in a predicament he didn't think he'd be able to deal with at all. His experiences seemed far better than that of hers. She didn't have much of a choice in any of that, and he couldn't blame that on her.

He wanted to forgive her, knowing that, in the end, she'd just been a scared child amongst a lifetime of fear and agony. It was Aurus that he truly despised now.

"You wanna be better, don't you?" he asked her. She nodded quickly. "Then that's all I really need to hear."

It didn't mean he could immediately trust her again. He was still wary, however much less so. All he felt now was confusion. Anxiety. He didn't really know what he was going to do.

Carolin...

She'd killed her... She could've stopped it. But she didn't.

But he wanted to forgive her.

But...

He sighed a few seconds later, thoughts finally returning to the life he'd lost. He was at a loss. It was really only just starting to sink in. His entire hometown, turned to ashes in an instant. The memories, his legacy as the Red Rodent, the sewers he adored... All dead, burnt away by the magic of the purple dragon. He couldn't find Myrtle earlier, or any of his friends. At least he could believe in them making it out.

Everything he lived for was gone. Life had been amazing, and now... life was just gone.

What was he going to do?

Roland rubbed his temples. He was reminded of his father and his mother. He didn't want to be like them. His father had been cruel... He didn't want to be cruel like him. He didn't want to be like that to Ashlyn. Her actions weren't justified, but she was confused, just like he was now. She didn't know what to do. She could barely help it, living scared like that.

And if he'd been thrust into the same situation, he might've acted the same way, too.

"I've... kind of made this night about myself," Ashlyn said, concern evident in her tone. "But I can only imagine what you have to be going through right now. I-I'm surprised you were even able to get up and talk to me. You're taking it pretty well. I'm... really sorry. For everything. I want to help, but I don't know how."

"I've... just gotta move on..." he said. He choked a little, thinking about the life he'd lost. "I've been moving on from things my entire life. I'm used to moving on. I do have hope my friends all got out. I didn't see any of them in the corpses, so I'm counting on them being alive. I know it's far-fetched, but I'm going to believe in that. Myrtle's a strong dragoness. She was right next to me and I couldn't find her. I hope Drevon's okay, too."

He stopped for a moment, realising he'd been quite stupid. He'd forgotten a detail amongst his confusion, his anxiety.

"...Where _is_ Drevon? What's he doing? He wouldn't have died in his own explosion, surely."

Ashlyn's head turned to the leaves again. "I don't know. He might've worn out his power. After that city-wide explosion..."

Roland shook his head, panic in his tone. "This could get bad. Really, _really_ bad for the Dragon Realms. Drevon is way too strong with emotions like those. He could destroy us all."

Ashlyn shook her head. "Dark aether is a powerful substance. The more it's used, the more corrupt the dragon within becomes. And Drevon... would've used a lot of dark aether there. Roland, you... might not even recognise what he looks like anymore. He could be huge. He could be... _warped and twisted_. I just hope he's run out of power."

"I've heard stories," Roland said. "But I'm not about to give up hope on Drevon. I can't just let him deal more damage."

Roland looked to the stars, to the Ancestors above, and inhaled deeply. Firemore had been destroyed. His entire hometown. Everything. It was all gone. His life had been destroyed. All of his dreams and wishes had disappeared.

But he had something else now. Something he'd never had once in his whole life.

He didn't like it, didn't like feeling special in any way at all, but it wasn't for him to decide what happened anymore. The Ancestors were guiding him now. He would have to trust them on this one.

He had a purpose.

"I need to find Drevon," he said.

Ashlyn looked to him, as though astounded by the thought. "H-how are you going to find him?"

He looked down the cliff, across the vast grasslands. He hadn't thought of that, but it didn't matter much to him. When he had his mind set on something, he would never abandon it. And for his best friend? He would do anything. "I'm going to search the Dragon Realms until I do. I need to help him fight this battle."

Ashlyn nodded. When he thought about what he said, it sounded unreasonable. The entirety of the Dragon Realms was at his claw tips. Drevon surely couldn't have gone far past Firemore, or maybe he was still biding his time in the remnants. That was still so much to search, however... He'd never find the purple dragon within. To think he could was illogical.

"I don't know how I'm gonna do it," he said moments later. "I'm stupid. I'll never find him. He could be _anywhere_ now. I... I can't just go out alone."

"Hey, don't just give up hope like that," she said. "We'll find him."

He sighed. Then a frown crossed his features. " _We_?"

"Roland, I..." She looked distantly into the stars. "I want to go with you. I want to help you, as far-fetched as actually finding him might be to you. Plus, I... have a debt to repay."

"A debt?" he questioned, cocking his head.

"I could've done something... but that's not the point. You... _accepted_ me despite what happened. You listened, a-and you made me feel a lot better about it all. Nobody's ever treated me like that. You're kind. I'd like to help you by repaying that kindness. I might have an idea on where Drevon is."

He felt a bit better at her words, but the final part caught his interest in a snap. "You _do_?! Where?!"

She was taken aback by his noise, but she should've expected it. "Well, the dark aether Drevon has works a lot like a fury. It's only temporary. I'd think Drevon's darkness would've worn off by now, and if he's a reasonable person, I would say he's gone to Midrun. That's where I would go, and that's where I did see a few dragons who survived the blast going. Let's just hope the power hasn't corrupted him."

"Wouldn't it just be a hassle to you?" Roland asked. He'd much rather not waste her time, even if she did seem to know what she was talking about.

"D-Dad and I were going to head that way, too. I don't really have anywhere else _to_ go. Plus, honestly... I don't really know how much you've been in the wilderness, but I'd say you've lived in the city your whole life."

"What does that have to do with this?" He frowned. So many questions and answers that boggled his mind. Her answer did make him chuckle slightly, though.

"Well, I-I-I d-don't want to sound offensive, but I-I'd figure you wouldn't have much... _experience_. Th-the world's a dangerous place, Roland. There's monsters and stuff at every wrong turn, even if we do have our own. S-safety in numbers!"

They both briefly turned around to the sound of shuffling, finding Bone Grinder who preened his wings. Couldn't sit still, that beast couldn't. The dreadwing looked up at Roland and grunted softly, awaiting his return.

"It's okay," he told her. "I understand."

"Oh, y-you do? I thought I was being kinda mean..."

"No, just honest," he said. He did feel a stroke of deviousness at that moment. "I can see what you mean. I _am_ pretty flimsy. I need a strong girl like you to protect me."

"I-I'm not that strong!" she exclaimed, legs as stiff as boards. "I guess I can use my element pretty well, but–"

"You're smarter than me, too."

"N-no, Roland, stop..."

"You're also not as ugly as me."

"By Ignitus, stop!" she yelled, shoving him, and he fell back a few steps. A few giggles escaped her maw, and he couldn't help but chortle himself. "How does that have anything to do with this!?"

"It doesn't, but I proved my point. You're stronger."

Then, when she realised she'd made even a smidgen of physical contact, her features twisted into worry. "Oh, I-I d-didn't mean to push you, I..."

"Do you always do this whenever you joke around?" he asked. "I don't mean to sound rude, but it's kind of obnoxious. A little push isn't going to hurt me. I give you full permission to push me around. Trying to be a _friend_ isn't going to make me hate you. In fact, it makes me feel better about you."

That word almost looked confusing to her. _Friend_. He didn't know what to make of her bewildered expression. He didn't know if he could call her a friend yet, but he'd sure as hell like to start over and rebuild what they'd lost, even if it hadn't been much in the first place.

"...But sure," he continued. "If you really wanna come, I guess you can follow me. I'd probably get lonely out here anyway. It's safer to travel with someone else."

She breathed a sigh, but this time it was one of a relief. She even gave him a light push to show she understood his words. He snickered at that, as did she. "Great. Let's head back to where we were. Your dreadwing's clearly waiting for you.

He was about to move, but a bulb flicked on in his head. He tore the satchel from his neck and reached into its leathery walls, eventually pulling her gleaming ring from within.

"I almost forgot I had this," he said, holding it for her to see. She loosed an amazed gasp, staring upon its golden form.

"My ring! Roland! Where did you find it!? I thought I lost it forever!"

"Just on the ground, near a seat next your place a little while back," he said, handing it to her. She was quick to slot it back to the toe from whence it came. "Where did you get it? It seems very important to you."

"It was a gift from Mum." She brightly smiled into its polished surface. "It was my tenth birthday present. She said that, whenever I look into it, I should think of her. I've taken good care of it for six years now. Or... well, I've tried."

"That's really sweet of her." Roland looked behind him again, and Bone Grinder once more stared at him. The dreadwing wandered back into the forest. "We should head back into the forest. It's getting late."

"Yeah, let's."

As they pushed past the leaves and sticks, Bone Grinder came into sight again, and he quickly padded over to the pair, mostly towards Roland. Roland stopped and leaned back, the beast's muzzle right in his face.

"H-hello," he stuttered. "We're back. We talked about things."

Bone Grinder snorted, then pulled at Roland's leg. A small squeak of pain left his muzzle, but he was forced to the ground by the huge furred mass above him before any damage was caused. The dreadwing would've been heavy atop his back, but held himself upright so he didn't crush him.

Instead, he... seemed to be covering him in its long, tangled fur, to keep him warm. It wasn't exactly cold out – not yet, anyway. Winter was fast approaching, though, and any fatherly instinct the dreadwing had was coming into play.

Ashlyn looked down at him, first with a little worry, and then with a giggle. He narrowed his eyes from his almost humiliating position, his head poking out of the hulking mass above him.

"Well, at least I'm warm."

"How's the smell?"

"Perfect..."

But it wasn't uncomfortable. In fact, he felt safe. The dreadwing reminded him of his bed, if only it smelt of rot and the mattress was grass poking at his underbelly.

"Well, I'll... see you tomorrow, Roland," she said. "I guess I'll take first watch, I–"

The dreadwing emitted something close to a growl. Roland couldn't see the beast's eyes from here, but he seemed angry at even the notion that Ashlyn would watch the perimeter. She took a few steps back.

"I... guess the dreadwing will take first watch, then," she said to Roland. The dreadwing accepted that response with an enthusiastic hum. Roland wondered if these creatures were nocturnal.

"What do you mean _watch_?" he asked. "Can't we just go to sleep?"

"And be attacked by something in the middle of the night without knowing it?" She shook her head and almost seemed to be sorry over his inexperience in the wild. "Sorry, I-I shouldn't be so rude... These woods are full of bell spiders and death hounds. We're lucky we didn't run into a single one. And trust me, you don't want to be licked by a frogweed in the middle of the night."

"I see. You're right. I'm an idiot." He smiled. "Night, Ashlyn. I'll try my best to stay awake. I don't trust Bone Grinder yet to not fall asleep, considering he's an animal, but... he does seem like he knows what he's doing. It's like he's been taught by someone."

"Yeah... Alright then. Goodnight," she said, pacing towards a tree. "And... thanks for everything tonight."

He watched her settle down against the tree and close her eyes to rest. Within a few minutes, she started to lean, and then fell to her side in an ungraceful mess of limbs. She didn't wake up from that, at least.

He looked up at the dreadwing. "Do you mind if I call you Fluffy?" he asked. "Bone Grinder's just a bit of a mouthful every time I say it."

The dreadwing didn't answer, although it didn't seem to care much either.

"Well, alright then, Fluffy. Thanks for saving us. I'd be dead if it wasn't for you."

Fluffy thrummed contentedly. Roland sighed into his scarf.

Firemore might've been destroyed, but at least something good had happened since then. He hoped tomorrow – or was it today? – would end up slightly better. It was a long way to walk to Midrun.

He hoped he'd find his friends there...

* * *

A tap on Roland's right wing startled him from his slumber. He didn't feel like he'd slept even a wink last night. He groaned.

"Ugh, I'm awake..." He looked to the blue dragoness. Why was she awake at this time? The sky was amber with the sun rising; the yellow orb over yonder was only beginning to peek over short, grassy hills, beginning its journey to the west. He eyed her with minor irritation. "Did you even sleep?" He undid the buckles on Garv's satchel, snatching at the pocket watch inside. Its golden hands read six o'clock. "It's only six!"

"Y-yeah, I know what you're used to," she said, staring at the forest floor. Her eyes were still black with exhaustion. Or was that the damage her father had done? He couldn't tell, nor did he really want to think about what he'd witnessed. "I like sleeping, too. But we should get an early start. We'll cover more distance. The sooner we wake up in the morning, the sooner we can get to Midrun. Plus, we did kinda go to bed really late. I think we both only got three hours... We'll sleep a little earlier tonight."

He couldn't agree more with that logic. He was dedicated enough to his cause to forgo the sleep schedule he was used to. He rolled over, got up, and stretched his legs until his muscles were no longer taut. "Fine... I guess you're right. But when we do get to Midrun and find Drevon, don't expect me to wake up like this every day. I like my sleep."

"Speaking of you sleeping, I thought you were going to try and stay up."

He'd completely forgotten! He was supposed to be watching their surroundings for danger, but alas, he'd ended up drifting off anyway.

Where was Fluffy?

He turned a full revolution before spotting the dreadwing, coiled around a thick branch, hanging like a bat, only of gargantuan proportions. The branch threatened to snap under his weight. His yellow eyes constantly shifted, warily scanning the gloom of the forest's insides. Somehow, he didn't seem the least bit tired. He must've moved away from Roland when he realised the red dragon was asleep.

Even if Roland hardly knew the thing, he felt just a little closer because of how much Fluffy seemed to care for him. He was there for him and, despite having no clue in the slightest to why he was, that made Roland a little happy. He just wished his other friends were here, too.

In spite of the calamitous explosion, he still had friends. He didn't think he'd be capable of dealing with any of this if it wasn't for the other people here. He hoped he'd see the rest in Midrun.

"R-Roland?" Ashlyn's voice cut in. He averted his gaze from the nothingness he stared into, noting Ashlyn's concern.

"S-sorry," he apologised. "Just daydreaming. And yeah, I'm sorry for falling asleep. I was really tired."

She just shrugged a few moments later. "I think the dreadwing was awake all night anyway. We're okay, it doesn't matter. We're lucky we don't live in the era of the Dark Army anymore. You'd never get to sleep, knowing there were apes at every corner."

"Oh, I've heard _all about_ the Dark Army. Drevon's obsessed with war stuff. I've heard every name of every ape commander probably five times over." When he finally got to stretching his wings, a burning spike of pain shot through them. He visibly flinched, gritting his teeth. He recognised the feeling as gem burn, a condition that could spread to any part of the body if one consumed too many spirit gems over a long period of time. Suffice it to say, he wouldn't be using any gems for a while, else the burning would get worse. It only occurred when injuries were present, and Roland had been injured and healed many a time in recent memory.

"Are you okay, Roland?" Ashlyn asked, preparing to take off. "You look like you just sprained something."

"Gem burn," he replied. "It's in my wings. I don't think I'm gonna be able to fly for a day or two. I should've realised when I was taking so many, but I was too focused on everything else."

"Oh..." She deflated a little. Any dragon would get excited over the prospect of being able to fly somewhere for once, considering all the rules and regulations against it in major cities, as it was a danger to people everywhere, except for the city of Shimmervale, populated by only dragons. Now that she had the chance, he was holding her back. "Well, it's okay. We can walk, maybe score a meal on the way."

"I'm really sorry. I'm a nuisance." He started moving towards the cliff face. How he yearned to soar through the air, feel the wind nip at his face, now an impossibility unless he wished to torture his muscles. "Oh well. Hey, Fluffy, we're going!"

He spun around to meet the dreadwing's eyes, but Fluffy had already moved and leaped into the air, gliding through the sky, giving them an aerial eye. He circled around the two dragons like a vulture foraging for scraps. Roland still continued to wonder why this dreadwing did all these things for him.

"Better up there than down here, I guess," Ashlyn said, uneasy. "I know it saved us both last night, but... I really don't feel comfortable around it. It's got... _fangs_ all the way down its _throat_. It's really weird. I want to know where it came from."

Roland peered down the cliff face, studying the sparkling Faymaw twisting through the grasslands, past rocky crags and small mountains. The chill of winter shook his scales. He wished he could be like Fluffy, furred and warm, and able to soar through the air. At least he had a scarf.

"Same," he said later, taking his first step down the steep hillside. Little rock platforms made it easy enough to get down. Strangely, there was a sign of old civilisation about them, carvings and what looked like brickwork. He remembered a speech made in the market square of Firemore about researching an ancient civilisation long forgotten. The ruins were scattered and rare, but they were the only signs of wyverns long dead, thought of as precursors to dragons, or at least that was what he'd heard. Maybe he wasn't remembering it right. He'd heard of wyverns being used in Malefor's army, but apparently they were unnatural creatures summoned by Malefor. The wyverns who built these ruins were the real deal, two-legged dragons, ancestors of ages past.

There was a tent nearby at the bottom, but it was full of holes and torn with wear, and he couldn't see anyone for miles. He assumed some kind of archaeologist had been here, studying the ruins.

"But Fluffy doesn't seem to want to hurt us," he continued. "I think he's nice."

"Is that what you're calling it now? Fluffy?"

"Well, he _is_ fluffy..."

Her laugh was gentle. "You're a writer, aren't you? So uninspired..."

"Hey!" he exclaimed. "I think Fluffy is a perfect name! Better than _Bone Grinder._ "

"Yeah, you're right... S-sorry, I-I didn't mean to make fun of your writing, I–"

He narrowed his eyes. "You're allowed to make jokes at my expense! I thought you got that last night. I give you _my permission._ It's all in good fun, you iceberg. Be like Myrtle and insult me."

"I... j-just don't like making people unhappy." She followed him down the platforms, to the bottom of the cliff face. He felt his cheeriness die a little. "I want to do the opposite."

The grass was long and tickled Roland's stomach. Little energetic grasshoppers bounced through the lush field, occasionally jumping onto the red dragon's scales. He didn't mind; they were free to take a ride with him if they wished.

"W-well... j-just stop worrying. Loosen up a little." He brushed the grass aside. His tail blade, while dull, cut the grass up behind him as he moved. The air was permeated by a scent, one of fresh rain from the night before. Now, in some ways, he was glad he was down here instead of flying, because then he would never get to experience such a pleasant smell. Just thinking about his wings made them ache, however. He looked back at Ashlyn and grinned a bit. "Trust me, if you ever hurt my feelings with one of your jabs, I'll tell you. But I'm a pretty resilient dragon. I doubt you will."

The breath that left her maw was one of relief. He frowned shortly. "I-I guess... You don't _look_ all that resilient, though," she added, her mouth adopting its own tiny smirk.

"Wow, a 'Roland looks unhealthy' joke," he said, dripping with sarcasm. He was trying his best to be friendly. She deserved that from him at least. If she was going to try her best to redeem herself, he was going to try his best to help her along. "I'm so surprised. You can do better than that."

"Hey, I thought that one was pretty good!" She jogged up to him, standing by his side. They passed beneath a tree. Its branches were lined with a red fruit. Ashlyn's stomach audibly groaned. "A-are you hungry?"

"Kinda, but you definitely sound like you are." He looked up, stopping beneath the shade. "What are they? Do you think you can get them down?"

"Wild apples. They use them in those apple pies you like." She stared down a red, ripe fruit. "And yeah... I think so. There was a whole orchard right outside Firemore."

He thought she would fly up to pick them off the branch, but instead, with remarkable accuracy, she shot a spike of ice through the centre of two, skewering them both. They fell with a feeble thud.

"Nice shooting," he remarked, picking them both up. He ripped the spike out of the pair and tossed one to Ashlyn, his paw sticky with juice. She caught it in her mouth with a grin. "Damn, nice catching, too."

"Th-thanks..." she said, mouth full. And he thought she was graceful... Now that he looked at her, she'd cleaned up since last night, probably before she'd woken him up. Her scales shined with a sparkle, fresh water droplets still coursing through her scales. She'd probably jumped in the Faymaw. Roland still didn't care much for his appearance, but this dirt and grime was annoying him somewhat. It was the sewers he was used to, not the mud outside Firemore. He could clean up when he arrived in Midrun, no point wasting time now.

He looked down at himself and frowned. Still covered in ash, now flecked with dirt and marked with the occasional stray twig. Maybe he could use one now...

He peered down at the apple in his paws and finally took a bite. He scrunched his face up at the taste. Sour, not a single nugget of sweet inside, completely unlike the apple pies he adored.

"Yuck." He looked at it in disgust. Somehow, Ashlyn cheerfully chewed down on hers. "This is nothing like apple pie."

She swallowed her next bite. The entire thing was almost gone. He was starving too, but he didn't know if he could put himself through such an experience again. "That's probably because of all the sugar they put in them, Roland."

"Eh, you're probably right." He tried once again, and while the disgusting flavour was off-putting, there wasn't much else he could eat. Maybe they'd encounter a wild piggle or two on the way. That'd settle his gut.

He threw the core to the ground when he was done and started moving again, Ashlyn beside him, into the world beyond Firemore, following the Faymaw. He'd never been far from home, and the calmness in the air still surprised him. The water softly bubbled as it drifted towards the coast, out to the Salamander Sea. The grass was gentle and walking on it was unlike anything he was used to. It was a nice change of pace from the events a day or two ago.

"I hope you don't mind me saying so–" she looked to him with an apologetic expression – "but don't you think you should have a wash before we get to Midrun? You wouldn't make a very good first impression."

"Eh, it's fine," he said. "Maybe they'll think I just need to be taken care of more because I look so hurt."

"W-well, I'm betting the first think they'll ask you is if you're a survivor of Firemore, assuming other people have already made it there, and I'm pretty sure someone will before we do considering we're probably a day behind all the others." She skipped over a branch on the ground. "M-maybe... maybe just jump in the river and get out after a few minutes. There's nothing in there that'll bite you, maybe if you head towards Lake Edwin."

"Eh, I dunno..." He angled his head. "Do you really want me to waste time?"

"You can swim along the river. It goes up the way we're going, anyway." She pointed ahead. "Jump in. It feels really nice."

"Guess it would get rid of the stink." Roland shrugged. He approached the edge, carefully pacing along the rocky edge. Twinkling water flowed through the Amory Grasslands, carving a twisting path through the gentle slopes and rocky outcroppings. Blue fish swam and hopped along the surface of the river. Up ahead, he could see mining tools stuck in the rocks, a place of recent spirit gem mining. "And those waters do look nice, you're right... Fine, I'll jump in."

He didn't wait for her response, cannonballing into the water. In an instant, almost all of the ash smothering his red scales washed off, a cloud of black floating away with the stream. He rose from the water, shaking his head, rubbing his eyes clear.

"Are you happy now?" he said, treading water, following the dragoness stepping along the rocks. She hadn't seemed to have expected him to follow through with her words. "Maybe if I stay here for a bit I'll look as polished as you are."

"Well, no, probably not. You'd need actual scale polish for that, and–"

"I wasn't asking for your beauty tips," he laughed. He looked down at the surface of the water, watching fish scatter from his body. He tried to grab at one swimming towards him, but it brushed past his claws and followed its frightened kin. "I'm destined to be ugly... Okay, I'm hopping out. I don't like swim–"

A screech shattered the calm like bullet to glass. He still shivered, despite having become familiar with its blasted sound. Ashlyn seemed more affected by it than he, falling back a few steps onto her rear.

He even recognised the tone of the scream now. He could tell that was Fluffy.

"That doesn't sound good," Roland said, clambering out of the water. "I need to see what he's doing."

"N-n-no, Roland, wait. He might–" But Ashlyn's trembling tone was lost to the wind in his ears. He shot over the hills, kicking up dirt and dust with his speed.

There, not far from him, was the dreadwing he'd named Fluffy. The dreadwing rose onto his hind legs, reaching into the air with the talons on its wings. Faint crimson particles jolted around the maw of the beast, and Roland could tell that was the colour of the fear element.

Worst of all, he could see two lightly armoured cheetahs trying their best to defend themselves from the beast, spears pointed towards it, though they cowered before the fear they'd been blasted with. They couldn't do anything about the dreadwing towering over them.

Roland sprinted towards them and, before the dreadwing could so much as lay a claw on them, halted directly in front of the breast, throwing both paws into the air. It took a few seconds for Fluffy to spot him, but when he did, the screaming came to an immediate stop, leaving a ringing in Roland's ear holes.

"Stop!" the red dragon shouted. "No! You can't just kill them!"

"W-w-what the?" one of the cats stuttered, his tone thick with a deep accent. "W-what's going on?"

Fluffy lowered to the red dragon's level, studying him. It seemed confused by the thought of not ripping the entrails out of everything in sight.

Roland waved his paws for further effect. "Killing is wrong, Fluffy! Why would you just try to hit them? Did they attack you?"

"W-we didn't do anything, we swear!" the other cheetah said. His light armour was torn with an angry gash, blood seeping through the cracks. "It came at us out of the air!"

Roland believed him, considering just how violent the other dreadwings had been. And they didn't exactly have anything ranged to use on Fluffy. He turned back to the dreadwing, who angled his head curiously. "You can't just do this. I don't want you to hurt people. Why would you try to attack them?"

The dreadwing didn't say a word. He had an idea, however.

"Are you trying to protect me?"

His last two words got a reaction out of Fluffy. The dreadwing nodded. Roland still found it so peculiar that the animal could understand him in some regard.

"Well... they didn't do anything to me." Roland pointed at the two cheetahs. At the same time, Ashlyn jogged over the cliff, shivering, teeth chattering. "Don't just attack random people. Only attack when I say so."

His head lowered at the scolding. The thing really was like a pet dog. But he needed it for trying to perform something so brutally abhorrent. Roland had seen enough death already, and he didn't need to add these two cheetahs to the enormous list.

"Y-you own this... _monster_?" the accented cheetah asked, lifting himself from the ground. Roland turned.

"I mean... no, but sorta, I guess?" His answer just seemed to confuse the cheetah further. "Fluffy didn't want to attack me specifically and I have no clue why. I'm trying to figure it out."

The other cat hoisted himself up with his spear, clearly injured. He didn't seem in fatal condition, at least. It wasn't like dreadwings had acidic claws or anything. "Wh-who are you?"

"Just a kid," Roland said. It was still natural instinct not to give away his identity. It wasn't like it would matter much in the long run, but he couldn't help it. "Who are _you_?"

"We're guards from Midrun." The uninjured cheetah scratched the top of his blue head, glancing every few seconds at the monster in front of him. Fluffy seemed irritated by his constant looks, slowly starting to bare his fangs. Roland knew he needed to make this quick. "We've been sent to inspect the damage on Firemore, with more of us coming behind. We're hoping we can find some survivors amongst the blast. Are you one of the survivors?"

"Yeah," he answered with a short nod. Ashlyn walked up next to him, minding the hulking mass right behind Roland. "Me and my friend here."

"I'm glad you survived!" the injured cheetah exclaimed before flinching at the pain in his torso. Roland looked at him with some worry, but the cheetah shook his head. "I-it's fine, only a scratch. We've got some paraneda herb with us just in case. But I'm glad you came in time. We would've been killed."

"D-did you pass anyone on your way here?" Ashlyn asked. She seemed to have one particular individual in mind, and Roland had a feeling he knew who. But the cheetah's answer was reassuring.

"Quite a few, actually. A few fire dragons, a mole, a few young dragons... We saw a dragonfly, but he ignored us." The accented cheetah put his paws to hips, humming in thought. "None of them were much for conversation. We saw another cheetah and a dragoness who talked for a bit, at least. We didn't catch the dragoness' name, but I think the cheetah said his name was... Harper? Was that it? He was a fellow guard, I think."

"Harper!?" Ashlyn was shaken by the name. Roland was about to speak up about the mention of the cheetah he knew, but the blue dragoness cut him off. "He's still alive?!"

"W-we passed him maybe an hour ago," the hurt cheetah said. "We have to keep going and we don't have time to escort you children to Midrun, s-so we'll let you go. Go east and you'll find a path. Follow it to Midrun. If you hurry up, maybe you'll find him. H-he's on his way there."

Roland nodded. "Alright. Thanks!"

The cheetah duo jogged off, minding the dreadwing, and sheathed their weaponry, one pulling herbs from a bag he carried on his back. They sort of seemed like they'd wanted to get away from him. He didn't blame them, considering he was wandering the wild with a _dreadwing_.

Ashlyn looked quickly to Roland, and then to the hills in front of him.

"Let's get going," she said. "We still have a couple days' travel before we reach Midrun. Maybe we'll find him at night, when they set up camp – _if_ they set up camp, that is."

Roland nodded and into the wilderness beyond Firemore they moved, in search of the cheetah and the dragoness by his side.


	14. Off the Beaten Path

Off the Beaten Path

Sure, Roland loved watching the stars and gazing into the moonlit distance – he could say he was used to it. But he'd never lain in a lush field of grass in the middle of the night before. It was a whole new experience to him. He could've if he'd wanted to, but he wouldn't have if he hadn't been forced to, as he had now.

Despite his lack of sleep, he hadn't been feeling very tired – not enough to doze off, anyway. Instead, he was fascinated by the little glowing bugs flittering around him, blue lights like sparkling sapphires, distracting him from his thoughts of Ashlyn. They were attracted by the firelight beside him. The embers glistened and faded around the bugs. Ashlyn had made a campfire at the request of Roland, who helped her gather the sticks and leaves necessary. She was worried; he could tell when her eyes studied the hills around them, but she couldn't make out the blue monster she was searching for. At this point, Roland felt safe that they'd gotten away from him.

He still wondered about his friends, though. He was anxious to see if they were okay. Apparently the guards they'd passed had seen a few young dragons, and even if that could've been anyone, he wanted to believe that was them. He wasn't ready to mourn their deaths if he didn't even know they were dead. If he got to Midrun and they weren't there, he'd...

Well, he knew they would be there. They _had_ to be. Roland didn't know what he would do if he couldn't at the very least find Myrtle.

He'd be stuck with Ashlyn. He still didn't know how to feel. His mind screamed at him to hate her, to loathe everything she stood for. She'd _killed_ Carolin. She'd brought him out here, destroyed Firemore and everything he knew.

But he knew those thoughts were too harsh. She'd never had much of a choice...

It could've ended up so differently. If they'd talked about it. Maybe if he hadn't been so mad.

He felt something stab at his gut, a blade of guilt. They could've solved _all_ of this before it turned to the shit storm it had now. And when he thought about it like this, he felt just as responsible for it as Ashlyn and her father.

His face sorrowed and he rolled to his side, grass brushing against his facial scales and paws. If he hadn't been as fuelled by rage. If he'd understood...

Roland shivered. He'd never done anything good. All he'd ever done was cause misery and pain for his own gain.

Who was he?

 _What_ was he? Was he but tinder for the blaze that swept across Firemore?

That was all he was, wasn't it? Seemingly so unimportant, yet so crucial. Terrible...

Fires... He saw white eyes. He couldn't stop shaking. His head hurt.

"Roland?" Ashlyn's voice interrupted him, and he stopped moving in an instant. The pain ceased swiftly. "A-are you okay?"

He rolled over and put on a small smile. "Yeah, just fine. Nothing to worry about."

"Are you cold?" she asked. "If you are, I can't really feel it myself. I'm an ice dragoness."

"Just a little. It's not that bad." He tightened the scarf around his neck. "This scarf makes it bearable."

"I guess that's why you asked for a fire..."

The air fell silent. Roland stared into the tiny blaze she'd created, toes picking at grass and winter debris. He wondered if it would start snowing. The northern parts of the Dragon Realms weren't known for their snowfall and blizzards, not like Dante's Freezer.

The fire. The black smoke. The milky eyes.

What were they? Why did he have such thoughts?

Were they trying to warn him? If they were, it wasn't a very good warning. They didn't even tell him what to be wary of.

He tapped his skull with a knuckle. What could these visions _mean_?

The fire was his hometown being destroyed, that he was sure of. But what about the black and white? What of the eyes that haunted his mind and brought him agony? Did they belong to Drevon?

Was it all just a coincidence? Was it rooted in his deepest fears, losing everything?

He didn't know he would ever find out. Even if he desired to, a part of him told him he shouldn't be seeking the answer. It told him he should be running away from it all before he was caught in a net.

He grabbed a little stick and poked the fire with it. It rejoiced, if only slightly, in the feeling of fuel. He swore he could see all of Firemore reflected inside the flames, like staring through a pane of glass. Ashlyn sat on the other side, the fire reflected in her guilty eyes.

She did say he'd taken the loss of his hometown pretty well, but he couldn't stop hurting. His entire treasure hoard was gone, the city he called his playground... Even his writing had probably burnt, and when he realised that, he felt his breath catch in his throat. Thankfully, he remembered most of what was there, having always stared at it when he entered his room.

But all those people... And having to kill one of his own kin.

Roland tried to ignore it, bottle it all away. He kept those emotions in and held himself high. There was only one thing to do and that was move on. He'd find Drevon, help him get rid of that darkness if it was still there, find his friends, and they'd travel to Warfang. That was his plan anyway. He'd heard Firemore was similar to Warfang. He'd feel like he never left the ruins of the city behind.

And then maybe he could get to work improving his life. Maybe he could go to school. Maybe the owner of the orphanage wouldn't be such a freaky hag. Maybe he could make some new friends. It was a lot to think about, but he decided thinking of all these good things was a better use of his time than focusing on the negatives and what had happened.

For now, he lay on the grass, far from the pathways. Ashlyn hadn't felt safe on them and so they both deviated from them, just for this night. They'd be walking along them again in the morning, hopefully finding Harper and Tristana. He'd asked Ashlyn why she wanted to go elsewhere, but he knew the answer already. She wanted to be as _far_ from Aurus as possible, while also heading to Midrun. Roland hoped they wouldn't see him again.

Was he coming the same way as them? If so, Roland hoped he would pass them.

Stupid, stupid... Why did he go with her? He was just going to end up being found by him, and then he'd have that problem on his paws.

...No, she knew what she was doing. That much was obvious. Plus, alone and naïve to the dangers of the outside world, he'd probably be killed out here by some wild animal. He didn't want to end up like Harper's little boy, in the maw of some enraged killer.

Roland sat up, shaking loose grass from his scales. He turned to Ashlyn. The dragoness looked about, uneasy, and occasionally turned her eyes to the fire again. Her head was held high, constantly watching. It was obvious she didn't feel particularly comfortable.

"We _can_ get rid of the fire if you want," he said a few seconds of watching her later. "It's not like it's _that_ cold. I just wanted a bit of light and warmth, but it's making you feel on edge."

"N-no, it's okay, I-I'm just watching for animals."

Roland shook his head. The fire wasn't big but he knew he was stupid he'd even asked for one. He was surprised she'd accepted his request. Maybe she didn't want him to feel bad.

"Alright, I'm putting it out." Stamping his paw into it a few times did the trick. The darkness didn't approach, however, for the glow bugs hovering around the hill they sat on already lit the area. Ashlyn didn't complain. "I'm just making it easier for us to be found by something."

She let out a short sigh of relief, but it sounded upset at the same time. He felt a little bored waiting by himself for morning so they could keep jogging after Harper, so he wandered over to Ashlyn and sat a few metres from her. Fluffy's form was a dark silhouette, shadowed by the tree he hung on. The thick branch threatened to snap under his weight, but Fluffy didn't care much. The dreadwing's yellow eyes shone, watching the area like Ashlyn was.

Ashlyn looked at Roland briefly, then, when he caught her stare, she averted her gaze to the grass.

"I'm afraid of him, too," Roland said. "But we're out here now, far from the path, in the middle of the wild. Considering that, I think he'll never find us out here. We probably walked another two kilometres before we stopped. And even if we do see him, we have Fluffy to scare him off. Don't we, Fluffy?"

Fluffy wriggled a bit, but didn't answer, focused on his goal of watching the perimeter. Roland shrugged.

"Fluffy would see him from miles away, anyway. We have nothing to worry about, Ashlyn. But if anything I do makes you feel uneasy, tell me."

"That's... pretty funny coming from you, Roland."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Do I make you feel uneasy, Roland?"

Roland sat there for a long time, watching the coals smoulder, before he answered. "I don't know."

She opened her muzzle, but her tongue didn't make a noise. She accepted that as she closed it.

"I just..." he started. "I'm trying, Ashlyn. You know what I mean. I'm... confused."

Ashlyn leaned back against her tree. "I-I understand." Her head drooped slowly. Her words were small, no more than a hiss of wind. "I'm a terrible person..."

He didn't want to believe that. What she'd done was... horrific. Carolin was dead because of her. But inside there was good and he knew it. She'd never wanted this. He stuck around not only because he felt forced to, or else die in the wild, but because he wanted to see that good in her.

He was beginning to blame himself for all of it, too.

"I think everything could've been handled better," he said. "Maybe if I'd been calm about the whole situation, we could've sorted it out."

"You were understandably angry. I took her. That's on me. I did that. I was stupid."

"And I just let it happen..." Roland lost the calmness in his voice. "I'm no different from... n-nevermind."

She understood him, nodding. He didn't even see an inch of hurt on her face. Like she expected it. As if she deserved it.

"I-I didn't mean it like... ugh." He _did_ mean it like that. He definitely did. And now he felt even worse.

"It's fine. I deserve it anyway."

Roland prodded the ground with the twig in his paw. Usually he was one for conversation, but he didn't know where to take this at all. The air of unease surrounding the two dragons made it harder to think of a talking point.

Somehow, the timid blue dragoness thought of something, bringing their conversation back to the fire. "I do prefer the fire out, just so you know. The death hounds come towards it. They're attracted to those little glowing bugs you see around us, and the bugs like the light of the fire. The hounds will dig around for them, and gobble them up like there's no tomorrow."

"Dogs eating bugs? That's new to me." He'd learnt something new today. And maybe had a thought to make their conversation more light-hearted. "And if we _are_ attacked by a death hound, don't worry. I'll be your knight in... smelly armour."

Ashlyn smiled at the last part. "I mean, after you try those bugs, you'd see why they're crazy for them. If you roast them just right, they're really nice..."

He felt queasy at just the thought of eating bugs. Sour apples and now insects? What _didn't_ she eat? "I am officially disgusted. Yuck."

"W-well, when you find yourself out in the middle of nowhere with nothing else to eat, you'd probably eat them too!" she exclaimed.

Thinking of food did make him feel hungry, though. It'd been a while since he'd eaten an actual meal. He didn't usually eat meals anyway, but what he would do for a well-done piggle steak right about now. His stomach groaned for sustenance at the thought.

"I hope we get to Midrun soon," he told her. He opened his satchel, futilely searching for nourishment inside. Of course, there was always the remaining spirit gem, but with the dull ache of gem burn in his wings, he'd rather not consume it. While safe and useful in situations where food wasn't an option, swallowing the crystals didn't sate hunger much. It would take hundreds of crushed spirit gems to fill a gut, and by that point he'd probably explode. He did have some curiosity, because he didn't know _how_ he would explode, considering his lack of an element. He wasn't curious enough to try, though.

"If you're feeling hungry, there's... always the bugs." She pointed to them. "Plus, it'd also get rid of them."

Roland shook his head and narrowed his gaze. "I'd rather eat those apples."

"Maybe we could've picked some more," she said. "Oh well."

He put a paw to his stomach and went to lying back down on the grass. The glow bugs were beginning to scramble away from each other now that the fire had been stamped out. Their source of light was disappearing. It was only the moons from high above giving them the glow that made Ashlyn's face just barely visible. The only other lights, if you could call them that, were Fluffy's golden eyes, faintly illuminating his face. If Roland hadn't know the dreadwing was there, he would've been frightened by those jagged, shining eyes. They always seemed so... angry. A vicious beast he sat with, pacified by the red dragon's presence for whatever reason.

Fluffy shifted on his branch and eventually hopped off. He paced around impatiently, searching, until he set his eyes on something. He moved past Roland, starting a jog down the hillside.

"Where are you going, Fluffy?" Roland questioned. Fluffy didn't look back, off to check on whatever he'd observed. The red dragon tried to follow him for a moment, and it was only then that the dreadwing turned back, growling. He raised his wings a little in fright and retraced his steps to his position on the ground. "Well... o-okay then. Go do whatever you have to do."

The dreadwing accepted that for an answer and padded away into the grasslands. Roland itched his head, then sat back down. He watched the large creature disappear from view.

It was a minute later when the grass rustled with movement. It wasn't from wind and certainly wasn't from Fluffy, that Roland was sure of. He stared hard into the long grass, sitting upright. Ashlyn noticed it, too, but she wasn't startled by the noise whatsoever. It happened to be right in front of her.

"Oh, hey," Ashlyn whispered. "It's a featherfox."

"A what?"

"A featherfox," she repeated. Roland studied the grass more, and saw a tiny white fox head through the blades. It curiously eyed the blue dragoness with beady eyes, who peered down onto its small frame. "Think birds, but with a wisperfur's head. They're not shy like birds, either. They'll come up and take a good look at you, probably because they have no natural predators in these parts."

He knew of the wisperfurs, snow foxes that lived deep in Dante's Freezer and the Weeping Wilds beyond that. They were the only creature, apart from the goldhorns – southern deer-folk – and the ice dragons, that could live there without freezing to death. In spite of the name giving the impression their fur was wispy and light, it provided unfathomable resistance to the cold. Roland suspected it wasn't just the fur giving that effect.

"Also, they're really tasty," she continued. "If only there were more around..."

"You're gonna kill it?" He managed to get a little closer to it. Not in the slightest did it know the fate it was about to meet. It chirped happily.

She frowned at his response, though. "Of course. Why wouldn't – oh, yeah, you haven't really been outside the city. Y-yes, I am. It's a thing my mum showed me. When we were all travelling to Warfang for the first time from Shimmervale, my mum showed me how easy it was."

Roland didn't care much for its approaching demise. Maybe if it was cuter to look at he would've cared a smidgen, but if the tiny morsel was as delectable as Ashlyn said it was, then he didn't think he'd mind. They'd just have to pluck the feathers and rip away all the bad parts. Or, well, that was what he assumed Ashlyn would show him.

The featherfox bounced closer towards Ashlyn, and before it knew what was happening, she snatched its tiny body up in her claws. Not a moment later, she snapped the neck of the poor creature. It squeaked before there was silence. Roland visibly swallowed when its life ended, shocked by how brutal it was. He'd seen far worse, though. At least the featherfox wouldn't have felt much pain.

At least it wasn't a dragon...

Ashlyn cocked her head, already plucking the feathers from the creature. "Y-you... don't seem like you liked that."

"Oh, no, it's fine," he said, putting a paw up. "I've watched piggle be carved up before. That's much worse."

"Where would you go to watch _that_?" She frowned at his words.

"There was a restaurant in Firemore called _The Abattoir._ They had a section where they cut their meat right in the centre of the place. The feral dragons overseas loved that kind of thing. It was a tourist attraction. It's probably the only place I've ever seen a manticore, too."

"I never saw it." She'd finished removing the inedible bits from the featherfox already. Her paws were stained with the creature's blood, but she happily licked them clean. She looked at the morsel for a few moments before tossing it Roland's way. He fumbled it in his paws.

"You don't want any?" He lifted it from the ground, brushing away the grass stuck to it. He'd never seen a fresh chunk of meat so close before. It didn't look anything like the creature she'd pulled apart a minute ago, its legs and head removed. It was, in fact, still bleeding. She must've been an expert, doing it so fast.

"N-no, it's okay. I'm not that hungry."

The sight made him a little ill and he would've preferred it cooked, but it would suffice. Minding the needle-like bones, he sank his fangs into its flesh. It had a taste very similar to chicken, and that left him satisfied. Unlike the blood of the dragon he'd been forced to swallow earlier, the small creature's was unusually tasty. This was probably what those feral dragons enjoyed, always ordering their meat completely raw. He couldn't blame them, and even if the featherfox was chewy, he could add it to a list of things he knew he needed to eat again. He hoped they were abundant across the Dragon Realms.

Ashlyn leaned her head against the bark of the tree behind her, breathing a soundless sigh. She then brought her body to the ground, putting her head in a paw, as if in thought. She gave the stars above a look and changed the subject a minute later.

"So much for going to bed early tonight, huh?" Ashlyn leaned against the thick oak tree, clenching the grass.

He yawned. "I didn't feel tired before, but all this talking's made me weary. I think I –"

"Hey! Look out!"

The new feminine tone almost made him jump out of his scales. "Huh–"

The deafening crack of gunfire sent a spike of pain jolting through his ear holes. Something zinged through the air and met its target with a bang. He scrambled away from the fiery glow of an E.F.'s ammunition. Yet another metallic bolt careened through the air and met the charred hide of a black and brown death hound right behind him. The hound yelped in pain, fur smouldering with the remains of an elemental bullet. The echo of a dreadwing's scream filled his ears.

He watched with shock as the hound fell to the ground, bleeding from the heart. The glow of fire on its fur faded with its life.

Paws scampered and boots sprinted towards the red dragon. He had no idea what was going on, eyes flicking across everything in sight. Ashlyn, who he saw briefly, didn't move a muscle, eyes focused on the death hound that she hadn't seen approaching him. Roland rubbed his eyes, and finally he met the gaze of a cheetah wearing a broad hat and light armour embroidered with the phoenix of Firemore, covered by a hooded coat as black as the sky. A long rifle was clutched tightly in his paws, a thin plume of smoke trailing from the barrel.

"Roland!" Harper exclaimed, panting. "F-fancy seeing you here!"

"W-what's going on!?" The red dragon couldn't fathom the events that'd happened in seconds. "W-wha–"

"There's no time to explain!" the female voice yelled. He recognised it as Tristana, the yellow dragoness he'd met a while ago. From her maw a bolt of lightning shot into the darkness, colliding with another of the death hounds behind them, electrocuting not only the hound but the blue glowing flies that illuminated their black fur. Roland scrambled to his feet, and so did Ashlyn. Behind them was a pack of angered death hounds, growling, slobbering like the beasts they were. Their yellow eyes glinted in the darkness. "We need to go! There's more lurking about here!"

"O-okay!?" he shouted back. Confused, anxious, and scared, he ran into the night, following the cheetah's black coat flapping in the wind.

* * *

Roland clutched the crumbling brickwork behind him with his hind legs for long after he'd escaped the pursuing death hounds. His chest heaved with exhaustion and fright. The blue dragoness watched around the corner of the wall for any sign of the hounds, yet they never came forth. Harper set himself down on the grass of the broken building they were inside. Tristana stared at the point between her claws and the ground, eyes closed. Sparks flickered at her feet, until they turned into a gently crackling ball of lightning, illuminating the shattered walls and smashed windows of the devastated cottage.

When another minute had passed, he felt he could sit down and relax. He settled himself into the grass, looking at the cheetah and the dragoness beside him. They both peered back, confused on where to start. It was Harper who finally said something, slinging the rifle over his shoulder

"It's good to see you survived, Roland. I had no doubts you would," Harper said. "And you too, Ashlyn."

Ashlyn turned at the use of her name and set herself down. The perimeter was clear. She had no need to watch, no need to stare across the world like the yellow eyes of Fluffy. Roland wondered where the dreadwing had gone. He'd heard him screech at something... Was it the death hounds? Did Fluffy know they were there long before he?

"I see you're sporting a new scar as well." Harper chuckled softly. "It seems fresh."

He touched his right eye again, forgetting it had been there. It was deep and the skin beneath the scales hadn't healed properly yet. Scars were often reminders of mistakes and of fierce battle. A dragon should be proud to have one. But he had no clue what this was from. Roland could tell by the shape that it wasn't a very pretty one, either.

"It feels like it's been forever since I saw you, Ash..." Tris muttered, focused more on the sphere in her paws. Ashlyn smiled weakly. Roland pieced together that if Ashlyn had known the cheetah, she probably knew his adopted daughter as well.

"Y-yeah. It's a shame we meet again in... these circumstances." Ashlyn stepped on the ground a few times and brought her stomach down. "And it's good to see you too, Harper."

Harper rested his back against a wall of the cottage, briefly studying the protruding beams and wrecked thatch above them. "Would you mind explaining how you both survived? We have seen some others heading towards Midrun, but, unfortunately most of the populace was slaughtered in that explosion."

Roland merely shrugged. "I... don't know how. I just woke up and there I was, in the middle of the street."

"M-me, too," Ashlyn lied. Roland gave her an unnoticeable frown, but he figured that her desires didn't extend to explaining everything again. Plus, it wouldn't help anyone if the truth was split now. She'd had a hard enough time with that before, and considering Harper hadn't ever experienced anything Roland had with her, he completely understood. She'd tell a lie now and explain later. He saw no problem in that as long as she didn't leave it for too long.

"And what of your father, Ashlyn? Did he survive?"

"I... don't know," she said. "How about you? How did you make it out?"

Harper nodded, setting a rucksack he carried with him to the side. "I owe you an explanation for how I found you as well, but I will get to that. Tristana and I were in our cellar when it happened. She was helping me rearrange my bottle collection into alphabetical order."

"And then it happened. We couldn't find anyone." Tristana's voice was quiet, as if it hurt to speak, a change from the cheerful attitude she'd had until the end of his visit. It was probably the nerves from the encounter with the death hounds and the terror from losing her home. Roland felt immediately sorry for her. She'd lived a good life in Firemore and that had been stolen away from her. She moved towards Harper, and when the cheetah looked beside him, he wrapped an arm around her.

"We didn't lose too much, fortunately," Harper explained, "at least nothing important. Our house wasn't affected much, neither were any on Firespark or on the left wing of the city, but you can't stay around that magic. I have most of our important belongings secured in this bag. As for how we found you in the nick of time, we noticed the glow bugs atop a hill and wondered if someone had made a fire. It turned out it was the two of you."

"Well, there you go," Roland said. He gave the cheetah a small smile. "Thanks for that. I'd be dog food if not for you. Your gun scared the shit out of me, though."

The barrel was still tinted with orange from the heat. "They call this one a suppressor, but it makes more noise than any weapon I've ever seen. Perhaps it's broken, or maybe it's a joke about being able to suppress _people_ with its noise. It works, though, and I can't complain. I could've bought the M33 model instead, however..."

"Don't get started on guns, Harper. You'll never stop." Tristana's joke was supposed to lighten the mood, but her voice was too low be picked up by anyone. Roland wondered who she'd lost in the blast. She went to one of the academies in Firemore, obviously... All the friendships she'd made? Her teachers? Losing a family was enough torment for a child to bear, but Roland understood completely the feeling of being forever deprived of the life they both once lived.

She didn't deserve this at all, and he felt he played a part in turning what she held dear to ruin.

"So, how did you two meet?" Harper grabbed the sword by his side and set it on the ground next to him, and finally took his broad hat off, happy to be free of the weight. Roland could see a dagger concealed by his side still; however, it wasn't like it weighed as much as the thick broadsword.

"In the sewers," Roland replied. He didn't want to give away all the details. He wanted to respect Ashlyn's desires. "She came to me."

"Ah, so that's where you stayed. And that would also mean that you, Ashlyn, must've run away from home. Why would you do that?"

The ice dragoness scratched her head. "Oh, n-no, I didn't run away. I was just exploring, and then I met Roland, and he took me there."

"Exactly. You're not a bad thief." Roland didn't know how good he was at telling lies, but this sounded believable enough. Harper just casually shook his head.

"Stealing? Your father would be ashamed." His voice did have good humour to it, but in some way, Harper was disappointed in her. Ashlyn uncomfortably shifted in her position. "He was a good man. One of the best guards I knew. I hope he made it out alright."

Roland coughed at the response. Harper cocked his head.

"Are you alright, Roland? Feeling ill?"

"Y-yeah, I'm fine." The red dragon sat up. Ashlyn's nervous gaze met his, but she was thankful he was playing along with her. "Something caught in my throat."

The run-down cottage fell silent, except for the occasional creak of loose boards in the breeze. Somehow this house still stood. Roland tried to ponder the things that may have caused it to fall into this state of disrepair. He suspected that there was a second floor to this place once, but most of the boards above had cracked and fallen away. Maybe it was just age that had brought around its death. He stared at the chipped white paint on the walls and thought he saw it still slowly peeling, life draining away.

A strong gust of air met the scales atop his head. He looked up to find Fluffy descending upon the cottage. The dreadwing squeezed through a gaping hole in the thatch and landed with a thud on the floor, bringing loose timber down with him. Roland wasn't too surprised, but he heard both Harper and Tristana scramble backwards and gasp in shock.

"Roland!" Harper fumbled the rifle slung over his back. "Look out!"

Roland shook his head vigorously. "No, don't worry! He's friendly! Don't shoot!"

The barrel of the E.F. shook in Harper's paws, staring the beast down. Fluffy curiously cocked his head.

"F-f-friendly!?" Harper exclaimed. The ball of thunder in Tris' paws disappeared while lightning started crackling in her mouth.

"What do you mean _friendly_!?" she shouted at him. "That thing will rip you apart!"

"Not this one!" Roland replied. "Right, Ashlyn? He saved both of us."

"H-he's not wrong!" Ashlyn got up and stood in front of the barrel of Harper's gun. Harper lowered it quickly, not wanting to accidentally pull the trigger and unleash a fiery bullet upon her as if she were one of those death hounds. "It doesn't want to hurt us."

Fluffy growled silently to himself, sensing the tension in the air. He followed Roland's commands to a T, however, not instigating violence of any kind. Roland glanced at the dreadwing and grinned weakly.

"These are friends, Fluffy." He petted the beast softly on the neck. The growling was subdued, replaced by a low but heartwarming purr he didn't expect out of the flesh-devouring monster. "You understand that, right? _Friends._ "

Fluffy nodded slowly, but his focus was centred on Roland's paw rubbing up and down the length of his neck. Roland scratched the skin beneath the woolly mane. The dreadwing kicked his hind leg on the ground, throat vibrating with his purr.

Harper didn't let go of the weapon clasped in his paws and his quivering didn't cease, but he appeared to be far more baffled than anxious over the encounter now. "H-how do you... _know_ this _monster_? Did you tame it?"

"I didn't really do anything," Roland said, letting go. Fluffy whimpered. "Fluffy just saw me and instantly liked me. He wanted me for some reason and that's what I'm trying to figure out. I'm not insane. I was as freaked out as you are when I first met him, and frankly I still kind of am. He's no more than a huge dog, though."

Tris adopted a neutral stance, going back to summoning the ball of lightning in her paw. The crepitating electricity in her maw fizzled away. "I... don't want to be anywhere near that thing."

"That's understandable." Roland set himself down once again, hoping the mood had calmed. The monstrous creature set himself directly behind Roland, cuddling up against him. Roland spat mouthfuls of thick, unkempt fur from his mouth. "So... what about this cottage, huh? Pretty weird seeing it out in the middle of nowhere, off the beaten path."

"Th-there used to be a cheetah settlement here," Harper said, voice still shaking. Roland thought he saw fire in those eyes of his, but it was passing. If he had, he couldn't figure out why Harper would be angered. He felt stupid for his inability to read his expression. "This would've been the chieftain's cottage. Surprisingly, it still stands. All of this would've been raided by the Dark Army long ago. Cheetahs don't live in tribes anymore, at least not throughout the Dragon Realms. I'm shocked none of this has been cleaned up. You can still see bits and bobs laying about."

Roland peered through the cracks in the walls. The half moons outside didn't provide enough light to make the remnants of this village visible. He'd end up seeing them when he got a move on towards Midrun.

"Are you going to head with us, Harper?" Ashlyn didn't look like she wanted to leave for the town east of them without the cheetah. With his mastery of the blade and gun alike, he would prove a valuable asset, and he probably knew more about the wilderness than any of them sitting here. The big cats were generally drawn to nature and, in some cultures, Roland knew it was tradition to send young cats out for a year by themselves to learn to survive. Maybe not so much now, for the signing of the Treaty of the Great Twelve united them and other races in the newly formed Warfang. Harper probably hadn't been through traditional methods, but guard classes probably taught him a lot.

"It is far safer to travel in numbers," he said. "And I am inclined to say yes. After what we saw this night, I know now that the Dragon Realms are infested with shadowspawn. That pack was gigantic. I can't leave you two by yourselves, or else I break the Copper Code."

Roland knew of the Copper Code, an oath made by guards and Guardians, swearing to protect all and to never fail those who they chose to protect, or have their honour destroyed, but what in the name of the Ancestors were shadowspawn? From the look on Roland's face, Harper could probably tell that Roland had no idea what he spoke of. Ashlyn peered in curiosity as well, but it seemed like Tris had already heard the name.

"Before all this, I was digging around in the old archives in the Library of the Phoenix. I found some old texts that showed me the name, shadowspawn, and listed off unnatural creatures birthed from shadow magic and, more prominently, dark aether. That monster behind you is one, and so are death hounds. They're not like normal creatures that eat plants or meat or what have you, but instead they feast on magic. They also don't give birth to their own young, which is odd for they do have a sex..."

"Maybe they... do it for fun?" Roland suggested, a goofy smile growing on his maw.

"Inappropriate, Roland," Harper scolded, "but you might not be incorrect. Wild beasts don't take pleasure in... _pleasure_ , but it does seem the only likely answer."

"I don't need to hear about dreadwing mating." Tris wasn't all too impressed with her adoptive father, but she did allow a smile on her maw. It was good to see one from her, and that was exactly Roland's intention, to get a grin out of somebody. Fluffy just tilted his head, and when the electric dragoness gave him a look, she giggled softly. "You know, that thing _is_ kind of cute if it's not trying to eat you, Roland, even if it does smell like wet dog times a thousand."

"Stay far away from it." Harper shook his head, releasing the dragoness beside him from his grip. Her eyes dipped. "It might look friendly now, but–"

"It's completely _harmless_ ," Roland reaffirmed. "Trust me, he won't hurt a fly. As long as the flies are us. He's proved himself to be useful already, saving me and Ashlyn, and I don't doubt he'll kick more arse in the future."

"Pffft, you don't need a dreadwing when you have _my_ lightning." Tris proudly held the little ball of lightning in a paw. "

Roland merely laughed at her. "You sound cocky. What _can_ you do, Tris?"

"Beat you to a pulp and fry your insides."

"...Nah, I think I can take you on."

"Without an element?"

"The element of surprise, obviously."

"Enough, you two," Harper exclaimed, throwing both arms to the side. "You'll wake up the death hounds with that ruckus."

"S-sorry, Harper..." The shame on Tris' face saddened Roland. It was obvious Tristana looked up to him. He opened his mouth to mutter a few insulting words, but Ashlyn beat him to speaking.

"It's all in good fun. Plus, they're not being that loud..."

It was clear she'd listened to him earlier. He was glad she understood a joke when she saw one.

"No nonsense, please." The cheetah moved his steel blade aside and lay on the floor of the cottage. "It's late, so I suggest you all get some sleep. Somebody will have to stay up and keep a look out for any death hounds, and I haven't gotten any sleep recently."

"Fluffy does a good job," Roland said. "I don't think he even falls asleep."

"You know what? Never mind. I'll do it." Harper leaped to his feet and jumped to a beam in the middle of the room that would've once held the cottage up. His claws stuck to the rotting wood and he clambered upwards, swiftly, to the roofing. "Goodnight," he called from above. "I'll awaken one of you in a few hours."

Roland waited a few seconds for him to settle down before finally uttering the words he'd restrained in his mouth. "What a killjoy..."

"Harper's pretty... no-nonsense, unless he makes a joke himself," Tris whispered back. "But he's right. We should get some sleep. Night, Roland." She waddled off to a corner and brought her body to the ground. Ashlyn got his attention with a wave of her paw.

"Goodnight. I'll see you in the morning."

He nodded before crouching down himself. He had a big day tomorrow. It wasn't far to Midrun, only a few miles following the great Faymaw drifting through the Amory Grasslands. He got excited thinking about the friends he _knew_ he would see there. That thought was what kept him going. Those thieves were cunning. If they could make it out of a failed heist, they could get through that explosion. Plenty of people had survived, according to those two guards a while ago.

He knew they were amongst them somewhere. They had to be...


	15. Midrun

Midrun

A tap on the red dragon's wing woke him from his slumber. His heavy eyes met Harper's yellow as he lifted his head.

"Up you get, Roland. It's your turn to take watch."

Roland slumped backwards, horns brushing against the ground. He felt as if the weight of eternity were sitting on his shoulders. His exhaustion seemed to know no bounds. He felt as though he were dying of sleep deprivation.

"Do I _have_ to?" he asked, rolling onto his side. "I think I could just go... back... to..."

"Roland." Harper's voice startled him from falling unconscious again. "It won't be for very long. All you need to do is sit up on the roof for a few hours and make sure nothing suspicious approaches us. I think we'll be safe in here, but I don't want to take any chances. It's not a strenuous task."

"It is if you feel like _dying_." He got up, stretching his limbs. He let out something akin to a yawn and a groan, the dull pain in his wings familiar, having not calmed from gem burn yet. Each pop in his joints was more gratifying than the last, but it didn't make the weariness any better. He blinked a couple times, then rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "But alright. Whatever. Fluffy _can_ do it, but I guess I might as well get used to it..."

The dreadwing was sitting right behind him, still wide awake, never closing his eyes; he ran his forked tongue across the talons on his wings, grooming himself. Now Roland was beginning to notice that Fluffy didn't sleep at all. Maybe shadowspawn didn't require it. He wouldn't be shocked. This monster was already a peculiar thing, what with its fear-inducing magic and hundreds of teeth.

"It would do you well to get rid of that _thing_ , Roland," Harper said. "Don't be so blind. And don't start fondly nicknaming it."

"Fluffy is _fine_." Roland smiled a little. "Aren't you, Fluffy?"

Fluffy lowered his head instinctively so Roland could reach up and itch the blue skin beneath his grey coat. Roland could find himself growing used to the purr softly vibrating against the pad of his paw. For something very dissimilar to a cat, it did have a lot of cat-like tendencies.

"You seem to have forgotten what happened in the market square." Harper folded his arms and looked down upon the young dragon sternly. Roland did remember, but he only lifted a brow.

"Of course I remember," he responded. "But not all animals are the same. You sound pretty racist, Harper. Racist against dreadwings."

"Oh, stuff it." Harper wandered off, adjusting the sword sheathed by his side. Roland eyed its hilt for a few seconds. "There's nothing I can do."

Roland shrugged, then looked at the roof. He waited a minute for Harper to swiftly doze off before crouching down and leaping into the air. He flapped his wings once.

He'd forgotten about the ache of gem burn coursing like a winding stream through the veins in his wings. Ungracefully, he fell, bumbling about before he regained his balance.

"Ow..." Roland studied the hole in the thatch above and wondered how in the Ancestors he was supposed to get up without hurting himself. He was a good climber, that he was sure of, but there was nothing to hold onto, and he used his wings to launch himself higher when required. His legs didn't have the physical strength required to hoist his body up the oaken pillar in the centre of the cottage.

"Well, this fucking sucks..." He hadn't taken any of it into account. He'd always relied on his wings, but they were temporarily out of the question. And he didn't want to go back and tell Harper that he couldn't get up and disturb the already annoyed cheetah from the rest he was having. He was too stubborn to let up.

"I heard the conversation," Ashlyn said from behind him. Her face was a bleak outline in the dark, but he thought he saw a weak smile on her face. "I could do it if you want."

"No, it's fine. I'll find a way up."

"I could... carry you up." Her voice was quick and quiet, like she didn't trust her own suggestion. Such a thing sounded dangerous, but Roland was versed quite well in danger. He snickered at the words.

"That's not a bad idea. It just depends if you're okay with wrapping your paws around smelly old me."

"I-I don't mind. You don't smell that bad." She ascended, hovering in place above him. A few moments later he took a peek at her, wondering what was taking her so long. Her paws were right above his back, but she didn't seem to know how to go about lifting him. Maybe she thought it would be weird wrapping her legs around him, like it was some kind of embrace. "U-um, I..."

"Come on," he urged her. He wanted to go back to sleep, but now he had determination to reach the top and see if they could make this work. She lowered her paws and then withdrew them. She did it several times. "By the time you pick me up, we'll already be leaving for Midrun..."

"I-I don't know where to grab you without dropping you!" Ashlyn finally took her paws back, awkwardly pressing them together. The dreadwing behind them grunted curiously at what they were trying to achieve. It was that noise that gave Roland a different, less embarrassing idea.

"Because you're too embarrassed to touch a boy, why don't I just use Fluffy?" he told her. Ashlyn froze at the words and didn't seem like she knew what to say. He released another low laugh. He knew he was cheeky, and especially loved how Ashlyn reacted to it.

Fluffy raised his head inquisitively at the mention of his nickname. Roland nodded at the beast.

"Can you fly me up there, Fluffy?" The dreadwing merely angled his head. A keyword, that was what he needed. "Uh... Fly? Ride?"

Fluffy lowered his back, the weird hunch he had vanishing. Ride was the word, then. He didn't think he'd ever need such a command, for he had his own wings, but the dreadwing would have to suffice for now.

Awkwardly, Roland clambered atop the beast's back, careful where he put his claws so they didn't sink into blue skin, even if they were blunt with disregard. Ashlyn watched him with what he thought was awe, amazement that the monster would allow even this. Once he was on, he clutched the fur. The dreadwing didn't do much, other than stay hunkered down.

"Uh, how do I pilot you? Fly?" From the nothing that Fluffy did, Roland assumed it was a word he didn't know. "What do they say in those books? Yah?"

He felt Fluffy bend down for but a moment before he blasted into the sky, shooting through the hole in the roof. Roland screamed, legs flailing in the wind as he struggled to hold onto the beast. His claws slipped through the oily fur, until he managed to grab onto the dreadwing's leg.

"Woah! Fuck! Stop! STOP!" he yelled over the wind blaring in his ears. The beast did as it was commanded, immediately coming to a halt in the air. Roland shot into the sky, launched like a boulder from a catapult, losing his grip. He flailed before miraculously landing on Fluffy's back again with a painful thud.

He gasped for air, panic flooding his system. He scrambled towards the dreadwing's stout neck and wrapped his legs tightly around it, almost to the point that he could probably suffocate the beast.

"H-holy shit, Fluffy!" He breathed hard, breath catching in his throat. He dared a look down upon the world and realised he was several hundred metres off the ground, the cottage a small, bleary, dark dot below. How fast had he gained altitude?! He'd felt as if his legs were coming off!

"D-down," he exclaimed. He pressed downwards on the dreadwing. "Slow, too."

The dreadwing listened and gently started lowering them both back to land. Roland breathed a loud, relieved sigh.

It was a few seconds before Ashlyn flew to their level, her voice thick with worry. "Are you okay!?"

"Y-y-yeah," he said, shivering. "A-almost died, n-no biggie."

"I... think 'yah' is a bit too fast." She descended with them. The dreadwing eyed her form with some curiosity, but was more focused on following the orders of the red dragon. "I should've carried you. I'm sorry..."

"D-don't be, I-I'm an idiot for suggesting it." He saw the cottage beneath them. He didn't want to let go of the dreadwing's neck just yet, but he didn't know what to say to direct him towards an area. He prepared to jump off and let Fluffy find his way safely into the cottage.

As they approached the thatch, Roland bent down and leaped with all his might, clawing the thatch in an attempt to hold himself up. It ripped slightly, but held the weight of his thin body. He climbed upwards with ease until he reached the point the roof flattened into a trapezium. He half-expected the straw and reeds to snap under him in spite of his weight, but, quite shockingly, it held, and firmly, too.

Fluffy looked up at him through the hole, confused as to why he'd jumped off. "Keep watch, Fluffy. I-I'm okay," he said.

Fluffy raised and lowered his shoulders and went back to staring through the holes and crevices in the cottage, keeping an eye out for predators. Roland watched him settle down before treading across to the edge of the roof, taking a seat on the thatch, minding anything that seemed like it could snap and fall. Ashlyn landed beside him, about a metre away.

"All that trouble just to get on a damn roof," he muttered about a minute later.

From the rooftop, he watched the rising hills and the gaping Faymaw not far north, just barely visible from his high position. Keeping watch for approaching assailants wouldn't prove to be useful in this light, he realised. It was far too dark to see anything, especially without the superior eyes of a feline, or probably of the dreadwing fond for him.

Maybe he'd be keeping an earhole out for them instead of an eye, then. When it came to the lowest footstep, Roland knew he was perceptive. He could usually make out the wind in the grass from an animal.

Ashlyn guiltily stared at the dirt and ruined wood below them. "Sorry about that... I-I really should've just helped you up here."

"It's okay. It does really hurt to fly, but I could've stopped myself before I hit the ground anyway." He sunk to his stomach, putting his head in a paw. A soft yawn left his lips. "You can go back to bed if you want. You don't need to sit up here."

She shook her head. "No, I haven't really been able to get to sleep. I'm not _that_ tired."

Inquiringly, he looked her in the eyes, and even if she was hardly more than a silhouette, he saw those sunken, black eyes easily enough. "Ashlyn, you look _buggered_. Is something keeping you up?"

An exhausted breath left her mouth, her shoulders slumping. "I... think you can guess."

"...I see." All of this was affecting her deeply, that he could tell. The problems ensnared within his mind were of a similar depressing calibre. Optimism was about all he had left and he used it to the full extent of his ability.

Move on, Roland, he kept telling himself. Move on.

You'll be happy again soon. Just move on...

"I'm really sorry," she said once more.

"You don't have to keep saying that," he replied. "I understand. Everyone's going to be feeling down because of everything. I'm not gonna let it bring me down, and I'm gonna try and stay positive. No point in moping about. Everything'll be good soon. I'll find my friends and we'll all go to Warfang, and then it'll all be happy again."

Her face was set, a grimness to her eyes. "...I'm sure they're there, but what if they aren't?"

Roland had considered the possibility and refused to believe that was the case. He hadn't seen Myrtle. She was _out there_ , and he knew it.

But her question did still bring him pain, and in some ways made him feel ill. Ill because he felt like he was a part of the destruction in Firemore. That, if his friends had passed in the blast, he was responsible for killing the people he regarded as his family.

"I don't know, Ashlyn. But I _know_ they'll be there, I _know_ they're still–"

"Will you hate me?"

That one caught him off-guard. He hadn't even begun to ponder how he would feel about her. Would he, when he felt responsible as well? What was the point in doing that, then? Was there any point at all in detesting her for everything she stood for?

He didn't know. He'd have to wait and see.

But he knew his friends would be there. They'd made it out. He knew the sewers had caved in, but they'd provide enough protection for all of the dragons below the surface of the city. A little falling metal and rock wouldn't have kill them.

"You're allowed to," she said. She sounded so calm about it. Did she think it would be normal to? "It's not wrong. What you're doing for me now isn't warranted."

"I don't know how to answer that question, Ashlyn." He cast a serious look over at her. "Don't even think about that. I know they'll be there. Why don't we talk about something else?"

She turned away. "I don't deserve this..."

"I didn't come up here to listen to you criticise yourself," Roland said, his tone growing harsh. "Stop. _Please_. Let's talk about something happier."

She didn't say anymore, holding those self-loathing words back. It was stupid to say things like that.

Roland knew he was a culprit, too, and he knew he needed to stop as well. Thinking about such things was only going to make the feeling of self-hatred worse, though. It was for the best that they both stop.

His eyes fell to the thatch. He picked at the weaved straw and reeds purposelessly; it was entertaining, if only for a few seconds. He drew one of the many threads loose, letting it float away in the soft breeze.

"What was Carolin like, Roland?"

He knew Ashlyn had become quick friends with her, but that was only to bring about Carolin's trust so she could take her away. Roland could see that she had wanted to truly befriend the dragoness, though. Carolin was kind, even to the despicable. It made sense. But it was clear that Ashlyn didn't know much about her, other than that she was the sister of the purple dragon.

"What can I say that you don't know?" he asked. "She was kind, considerate... childish at times, but she had the biggest heart out of anyone I knew. She was always optimistic, always loving (unless you stole Mr. Fluffles), never a bother to be around... It's safe to say everyone liked her, Ashlyn. We all loved her."

She looked down at the roof, awkwardly shuffling her paws.

"This isn't just another reason to criticise yourself more, is it?"

"N-no," she said. "I'm actually curious... Have you got any stories?"

He grinned slightly. "Boy, do I _ever_. Where do I even start? Well, we used to have this cupboard full of plates and dishes – dunno where it came from, don't ask – and then Cary, she..."

He lost track of the time, telling Ashlyn of stories in the sewers. Her focus on him was almost intense. She was determined to learn about the dragoness and her past. And Roland didn't mind telling her, not one bit. She laughed at every joke he made, grinned at the clumsiness and childishness Carolin had. And towards the end, when he spoke of the good Carolin radiated, a short but warm, genuine smile spread across her maw.

He found that he'd always taken Carolin's presence for granted. He knew she was a nice person, but he'd never had time to stop and think about her like this, and had never been asked. Carolin had meant a lot to the sewers. Roland had never seen her too much, always busy enjoying herself with her big brother, or playing by herself, but she did hold a special place in his heart. She was almost like a little sister to him.

She was like a little sister to all of them. A young, bright spark, always cheerful. She kept their whole family together.

"There was a time when we all sort of threatened to separate," Roland explained. "It was a while ago. I was about twelve at the time. We were really running low on everything. Everyone was mad, and in spite of my best efforts to calm them, they didn't stop. Fights broke out. It was horrible."

Ashlyn tilted her head. "Did Carolin...?"

"Yep. She saved us all, and she was only six years old." He reminisced the time she'd come along and set everyone straight. If not for her, the guild of thieves beneath Firemore would've separated long ago, and he would've been back to living on the streets. "Cary came along and made it better. She put a stop to all of it and got us back on track. And she didn't really say much, necessarily, she just... made everyone happy. And that was enough. It's what I always strove to do, but she did it effortlessly."

Ashlyn continued to smile, but Roland could see the pain through it. She'd lied about not berating herself, only now she was doing it wordlessly. Her actions _were_ worthy of critique, but that didn't make it enjoyable to listen to, or a good thing to do.

That was hypocritical of him to think, though. He'd done the same recently to Myrtle. It was obvious now that Ashlyn was only trying to cheer him up, to help him remember the times when joy reigned. "She sounds like she was a really good person..."

"She was. I should've thanked her for the things she did, but now I realise I was too focused on myself and everyone's problems to realise what she was doing for us all. I never asked for help."

Ashlyn's eyes scanned the distant horizon. Roland had forgotten he was supposed to be watching his surroundings for death hounds and the like. Pale orange rose over the hills, reflected on Ashlyn's polished scales. It wasn't difficult to spy animals scampering through the grass now, but he didn't foresee anything attacking them.

He saw the remnants of the cheetah village now, just as Harper had told him there would be. Chipped and cracked timber and rock, scattered like withered leaves. Unlike the chieftain's cottage, none of the buildings attacked by the apes of centuries past were left to stand. Why was this one? Perhaps as a sign of their accomplishments, to frighten those standing in their way? He'd never find out, not that he had a desire to.

"What about Drevon?" she asked later. "What was... _is_ he like? I never really got to talk to him."

"He's my best friend," Roland responded. "He's loud and annoying, childish like his sister, but he has a big heart. At least, that's what he was like before all the bullying stuff with Seth happened. I can only imagine what he must be feeling right now."

"Do you blame him for this?"

He shook his head almost immediately. He didn't even hesitate. She seemed surprised by this and he felt the need to elaborate. "No, I don't. He wasn't the one in control. That's a completely separate _thing_ I never want to see again. Drevon would _never_ hurt anyone. That _... parasite_ isn't him."

A gentle nod was the answer he received. He looked up, into the dimming lights. The Ancestors would rest now.

"How did Drevon come about?" she questioned. "To the sewers, I mean. Did you know his parents?"

"I've never seen Drevon's mum and dad before." He put a claw to his chin. "He said they were nice, but they always kept him locked away from the public eye, and they lived where the population was very small. He never went to school or anything. The Guardians managed to pull off a celebration of sorts, but it was really small and nobody came except for a few higher-ups. Word did spread for a little bit, but it didn't reach many ears, and people doubted it because purple dragons are only supposed to be born every ten generations, and it's only been five since the last. I suppose it's for the best that people ended up forgetting."

"It makes sense why they would do that, considering what happened to the other purple dragons," Ashlyn said. "Malefor mongered a very long war, and Spyro was our high-king and ended up going mad. We're lucky Spyro didn't try to start an island-wide war against us all. He could've hurt a lot of people, if not for his elite guard. If anything, his son, Amory, does a much better job... But anyway, I guess being locked in was the reason Drevon decided to run away."

"Yeah, exactly." He remembered the story Drevon told him, of how he smashed through the only window in the house with his sister of five years by his side. "Both he and Carolin grew sick of not being allowed to go anywhere, and how tense it always was inside the house. Drevon had gone out before that, in the middle of the night, but after his parents found out and made sure the door was locked beyond picking, he decided to leave for good. They lived on the streets for a while, found Myrtle, Myrtle found me and Seth, and then we all went to the sewers. I–"

A sudden streak of grey raced through the sky, spawning and vanishing in nearly an instant, knocking him from his conversation. He frowned, watching the blur fly far past the hills and disappearing over the ocean.

"Did you see that?" He pointed to the thin trail of smoke.

"Yeah, I did. Was it an airship? Like the ones the Skavengers used to use?"

"No, that's too small for an airship, and it moved way too fast," he said. Those scurvy sky-dogs didn't raid the coasts anymore because their fleets were easily shot down with a well-placed cannon and turret fire. Weapons now were far more accurate than they'd ever been. "Nobody uses airships anymore, either. They're too unreliable and nobody's figured out how to perfect the technology. I've heard the moles are working on prototypes for some winged jet-propelled contraption, but that couldn't be it."

"Then I.. have no clue." Her shrug was awkward, a low yawn leaving her mouth. Roland tightened the wool scarf around his neck, waiting for her to speak again. The cold was pervasive. Even if it didn't help a huge deal, he was glad he had the gift Seth gave him before he left. If only clothes could possibly be fashioned for dragons without all their spiky bits tearing up the fabric. Well, dragons did wear loose robes every now and then for special occasions, and armour when heading into battle, but those times were few and far between.

"What kind of creature races through the air, leaving a trail of smoke?" he asked her. "It was grey... Not a wind dragon, surely not."

Roland waited for her answer, but it never came. He looked over and found her head buried deep in her paws, unconscious. He stifled a laugh.

"We'll think about it later." He looked out beyond, then down to the dreadwing scanning the perimeter like some sort of automaton. Eventually, Roland let a smile cross his mouth. A _guilty_ grin, but a grin nonetheless. For some reason, the thought of inadvertently annoying Harper sort of appealed to him now.

They had Fluffy, so they'd be fine. That Roland knew.

"Maybe I'll catch up on some sleep, too..."

* * *

"And this is why I shouldn't trust a child to keep watch for us."

Roland just barely kept his eyes open, listening to the stern lecture Harper was giving him for falling asleep. The cheetah had found him on the roof, snoring into the thatch right next to Ashlyn.

"I should've known better," Harper said, giving the red dragon a frustrated eye. He didn't seem mad, only disappointed in him. Roland, as tired as he was, felt the need to defend his action.

"Yeah, sorry, but I think Fluffy did a fine job anyway." He gestured towards the dreadwing, who was _still_ wide awake. He wouldn't be surprised anymore if it didn't sleep, knowing it was bred from the black, formed with dark aether. The effects of that magic were inherently chaotic. Fluffy could've come out far stranger than he had. He pondered how in the Ancestors that magic worked, the variables behind its effects, the way it reached its conclusion on what to do. It was as though it had a mind of its own.

"I am _not_ entrusting that monster with our lives." A scowl grew on the cheetah's muzzle. "I have half a mind to put that thing down, Roland."

"Fluffy has only _helped_ me!" Roland exclaimed. "He doesn't want to hurt us. I'm pretty sure he's here for the sole reason to _protect me_. Someone owns Fluffy – I know that, considering he has a necklace and a name tag. Someone must've sent him to me, and I want to figure out why they would want me protected and who owns him."

"But if that thing of yours ever hurts anyone..." the cheetah began, but he ended up walking away with a scowl on his face, jumping off the thatch rooftop. Roland spun around to Ashlyn, sighing lowly.

Roland waited a minute before speaking again in a murmur. "I wanna know why he's so mad. He seemed find, and then Fluffy came along. If he doesn't trust Fluffy, that's fine, but Tris didn't look angry around him..."

"I mean, I get it," she said. "It's a big, scary monster. What's not to fear about it?"

"I guess so, but Tris... Oh well." He raised his wings a little, and he could barely feel the pain in them anymore. He wondered now if they'd healed enough to take flight. Only one way to test that out, and that was to jump through the hole in the roof. "You can stop calling Fluffy 'it', by the way. I'm pretty sure he has a–"

"We're leaving for Midrun!" Tris called from the inside of the ruined cottage, interrupting the red dragon and his unseemly statement. She sounded a lot happier since the night before. Or maybe she was masking the sadness in her voice. Either way, he hoped she felt a little better. "Only a few hours of walking and we'll be there!"

The excitement that brought Roland was immense. In just a few hours he could be seeing his friends! He couldn't wait to meet up with them again. He was tempted, now that his wings felt capable of flight again, to careen into the air like a starved vulture, its eyes on the prize. But... he could hold himself still for two or three more hours. He was a patient dragon when he wanted to be.

Of course, that was if they were there. But he truly believed they would be. His friends were tough.

Ashlyn followed him off the rooftop and it was there that he decided to test his wings. He spread them wide. Ashlyn gasped lowly at him, but the burn had become a negligible ache. He flapped them both a few times and, sure that they wouldn't deceive him, hovered in the air above the jagged hole in the cottage. A problem remained, however, and that was that he could feel the pain creeping back once again. He could use his wings, if he didn't mind enduring a steadily growing pain.

He slowly alighted on the ground, Ashlyn beside him with a small but apparently relieved smile on her face. She really didn't want him to be brought to pain. No more pain, at the very least, not after...

No, he had to keep his mind off of that. Stay positive, Roland, he kept telling himself. _Stay positive..._

He drew a deep breath, his eyes eventually wandering over to the yellow dragoness and cheetah awaiting him and Ashlyn. Tris had her head up against a wall, rubbing her lightning-bolt horns up against one of the cottage's wooden walls. Horns grew back as long as the origin wasn't removed, but they also kept growing, just like claws, and, while less so, spines. While growth after returning to an adequate height slowed greatly, constant care was required for such a thing. Roland didn't remember the last time he'd shortened his sharper bits. He felt one of his four horns and thought that maybe they _were_ becoming a little tall. They were the only part of his body he really cared about.

Tris saw this as she finished her own, donning a soft smile. "I wouldn't worry about it too much, Roland. Longer horns look good on you."

Tris, being the stunning dragoness she was, was already trustworthy to him when it came to fashionable horns, so he took her word for it. Harper intervened before anything more could be said.

"Come on, you three. We should've started our journey fifteen minutes ago."

And that was Roland's fault, after choosing sleep over watching for predators, because Harper gave him a talk. A little guilt surged through his mind, but it was quick to pass. Fluffy had done the job for him, so he couldn't feel too bad.

He released yet another yawn, eyelids drooping of their own volition. He could barely keep from jumping up and down in excitement, but his exhaustion weighed him down to the point where he thought he would struggle to walk a few hundred metres. It was a curious feeling to have.

And so they got a move on, down the grassy hills, towards the sparkling Faymaw they'd ventured away from in their haste to run from the death hounds. Fluffy took off into the skies after seeing them move; Roland felt his body jerk at the action, remembering last night's scare. The cheetah had a look around for the dreadwing, and when he spotted him in the air, he let out what seemed like a relieved sigh, for he would no longer be near the beast, at least for now. Roland held back his annoyance at this. He already did trust that dreadwing, and sort of liked him. Fluffy sure was monstrous, but he was a cute kind of monstrous.

Harper led the way down the hillside, stepping over a rotten board, with Tris following closely behind him. Roland strayed ten or so metres from them, with Ashlyn keeping a few paces away from him. To pass the time as they walked towards their destination, Roland approached Ashlyn with a thoughtful smile on his face.

"What do you like to draw, Ash?" She was shocked a little by his presence, like she'd expected to stay alone this entire trip. If the circumstances that brought them together had been any different, maybe he would've stayed away, but he was determined to let her prove herself. A fun conversation would probably help relieve their tension.

"Oh, uh... _anything_ , really." She put a claw to her lip. "But I guess do like drawing the sky a lot. I always asked my mum for paints if she could get her paws on any when we lived in Warfang, but it never happened... Well, I think she _did_ buy me some once, but the tubes were squashed on the floor when I got home from the academy. I've always wanted to paint those swirling blues, that sunset yellow. But alas..."

She peered dreamily into the clouded sky that curled with fluffy whites like serpents, tails tinted with orange from the early morning sun.

"And the stars, too," she continued. "You were right when you suggested I probably like the stars. My mum used to say the jewel in the centre of my ring was from the fragment of a star, but I'm too old to believe that now. I know it's a sapphire."

"Why did she say that?" He was eager to learn why. A light laugh left her muzzle, her eyes on the glimmering piece on her toe.

"She always used to say that, if she was ever gone, she would be up in the stars, watching over me. And if I ever spoke into my ring, she would come down from the heavens and listen to me using the power of the star fragment's magic."

She blew a sigh. He could see a slight happiness twitching at her mouth.

"I miss her. I miss her a lot. But... it's okay. Even if she won't come down from her place with the Ancestors, I always know she'll be there with the stars, listening. Nobody's ever truly gone."

He'd been worried he'd already brought their conversation into the depths of misery once more, but he could only smile at her words. He found the way she spoke quite beautiful...

Maybe she'd make a good writer?

"Hey, Roland?" Tris slowed her pace to get next to the red dragon. Harper turned for a slight moment, but didn't seem bothered. "Can I show you something?"

"Yeah, of course."

Tris smiled at that, running back up to Harper. She said a few quiet words to him. With an agitated nod of his head, the cheetah stopped in place, swinging the heavy rucksack from his back onto a single arm. Roland watched in uncertainty, puzzled about why they'd stopped, and came to a halt where he was, too.

The cheetah fished for something inside, listening with his pointy ears to the sounds from within. He seemed to wrap his paw around something, and with a forceful tug, drew a quirky metallic object from its depths. It looked like a bunch of thin metal rods stuck together with a small trigger at the bottom. Clearly not a weapon of any kind. Or maybe it was and he was yet to see its power. Tris hopped back on three legs with the amalgamation of sticks in a paw, and Harper started moving again. Both Roland and Ashlyn followed.

Ashlyn studied the object as Tris approached, but didn't seem to be able to work out whatever it could be. Tris cheerfully walked back, waiting to see if anyone could guess as to what it was. Roland shrugged. Maybe it was just the angle he was looking at it from.

"You don't know what it is?" she asked. Her voice expressed disappointment, but her almost giddy grin remained. "I thought it was obvious, considering you're both using all four of them right now."

"I have no idea what you mean." He looked at it from differing angles but couldn't decipher what it was. All it was to him was a bunch of thin metal pieces welded together in unhelpful, strange ways. "Wanna tell us?"

"Maybe if I hold it like this, you'll be able to guess!" She bent down slightly, getting close to the red dragon. She walked with the contraption very close to one of his feet. It did take him a few seconds, but both he and the blue dragoness had a revelation at the same time. It was a model of a dragon's paw, although hastily fixed together. He could see where the foot started, connected to four strands representing the three toes and the thumb on each foot. She then pressed the trigger right near the foot's base and he watched as the toes curled into a fist. Even if it was simple, he never expected this dragoness to be some sort of inventor.

"That's pretty cool," he remarked. "But what's it supposed to be for? Are you gonna replace a dragon's missing foot with it?"

His joke made Tris laugh. "Oh, I'd hope not! It would snap under the pressure. I think that would be pretty cool, though, if that were actually possible. I could be a doctor!"

"What _are_ you going to do with it, then?" Ashlyn chimed in. "Is it just for fun?"

She shrugged. "It's like drawing art, but in three dimensions. I heard you both talking about art and couldn't resist showing you. I was thinking of making a wireframe dragon, though I don't think I can fit _that_ in Harper's bag. Maybe I'll stick to making it look like an actual paw and not this jumble of wires. If only I could work a forge on the go..."

They were nearing the Faymaw now, and a hill that rose much higher than the rest. Roland felt that from the top he'd probably be able to see Midrun. Not very far at all now.

Ashlyn skipped over some rocks in the water, as did Tris. Roland slipped a few times before landing safely on the other side.

"Did you work in a smithy back in Firemore?" Ashlyn asked. Tris nodded eagerly.

"I didn't really _work_. I was too busy with school and cleaning up the house and what not. But yeah, I knew an Atlawa. His name was Alevor. He showed me how to smith a blade and everything in my free time. I could do that stuff in my _sleep_ now.

Roland had always been interested in blacksmiths, but he'd never found the time to look into it. "Have you made anything else, Tris?"

"Oh, there's a few more things in that bag!" she said, eager to show off her work. "We can go over them once we get to Midrun." She looked ahead. "And speak of the devil, there it is."

Roland cast his gaze forward and was met with the happiest sight he'd seen since Firemore had been destroyed. Civilisation. It didn't hold a candle, barely even a wick of flame, to Firemore's looming spires and technological dominance. There was no giant stone wall encompassing the breadth of the city and it was barely a tenth of the size. No electricity of any kind.

But it looked peaceful. Tranquil. A fishing town right on the coast sounded really nice.

That was Midrun, and that was where Roland knew he would find his friends. Everything would be smooth sailing from there.

Maybe, even, he could move in there, rather than Warfang. He wouldn't mind a change of pace from the bustle of the city.

And he could even see dragons flying there! If there was anything he adored just as much as writing and thievery, it was flying, and from every dragon he'd spoken to that was a shared sentiment. That wasn't allowed in Firemore, for there would be too many dragons in the sky at once, and the chance of an accident would've been very high. Firemore had been overpopulated, even for a city of its magnitude. He couldn't wait to get down there, so much so that he could sprint down the hill past the cheetah leading the way, in spite of him craving sleep more than anything.

Well, other than his friends!

"I hope I can find Alevor in there," Tris said. "He's a sturdy old llama. Hopefully my academy friends, too."

Roland didn't respond, but he knew if that he couldn't find the bodies inside Firemore, he'd find them elsewhere, alive. Myrtle _certainly_ wasn't gone. He was counting on that at the very least.

And maybe if Tris believed hard enough too, her friends would be there as well.

"I thought it would be further than this," Tris said. "I could run there, no sweat."

"How about a race?" Roland thought it was probably a fifteen minute run through the Amory Grasslands before they got reached the coastal town, and an even shorter flight. "As long as we're on foot."

"A race?" Ashlyn seemed iffy about it, preferring a leisurely stroll through the grasslands until they reached their destination.

"Well, I'm down." A sly smile pulled at Tris' maw and Roland could only wonder why.

"You won't beat me, Tris. I'm pretty fast." Roland stopped and bent down. "I'm gonna get a head–"

"See ya, Roland!" Sparks crackled around the yellow dragoness before she shot off at what felt like lightspeed. Roland knew he should've foreseen that. Harper spun around as Tris almost smashed into him.

"Tristana! Damn kid! What's gotten into you?!" The cheetah ran after her as fast as he could, but it wouldn't be nearly enough to catch the electric bullet speeding towards Midrun. She did come to a stop only a few seconds later, but she'd already made probably a minute's distance in that time. Roland took that as a sign that he'd already lost, but that he should probably start going, too.

"C'mon, Ashlyn," he said, starting a jog after them, knowing this race was already won. Ashlyn has no choice but to oblige. "Let's catch up!"

* * *

Midrun, despite his previous thoughts, was honestly quite the sight to behold. He couldn't explain it very well. Something about the small, neat cottages packed into rows, the Faymaw bubbling and drifting a straight line through the town to the ocean, the welcoming arch that curled over the top of their group, was homely. The sun was high and the town was, surprisingly (but also happily), bustling with people. He didn't believe Midrun had a large population, so if he had to take a guess, most of the people here were travellers from Firemore.

And if all these people were travellers, arriving earlier this week, then that meant his friends had to be amongst them.

As they walked past the wooden arch and its chained signed reading _Midrun_ swinging and creaking in the breeze, he noticed that plenty of the fishing town were heading towards a central point. The cobble path here was split in two by the river, flowing towards the middle of town and out towards the ocean. If he looked past the hundreds walking along it, he thought he could see a fountain smack in the middle of Midrun, and a _very_ tall dragon standing on a raised platform, waiting for the crowd to gather. It wasn't the platform that made him appear that way, it was just his height, shocking Roland. He was huge! And clearly of importance if he was upon that platform, apparently addressing the citizens and arrivals.

"I do not want you rushing off like that again, Tristana." Harper looked down upon the dragoness, who flinched at the mention of her name. Even her horns seem to droop at his frustration. "And you _definitely_ should not use your magic so recklessly."

"I'm sorry, Harper. I'll stop." But she was only having a bit of fun, Roland thought. What was the harm in that? She didn't put anyone in danger.

"Hurry along, you three," the cheetah said, picking up the pace. "Mr. Varlend appears to be addressing the town, and we probably don't want to miss it."

Roland guessed that was the big red dragon standing above the crowd. He didn't want to miss that, for sure, but maybe not for the reason Harper had. Everybody was gathering there. _That_ would be where he would find his friends. Once everyone began to disperse and he could get a good look at the people walking away, he'd find his friends again.

He couldn't wait to see Myrtle...

It was a long five minute walk to the centre of town. It was far too difficult to get past the crowd. Ashlyn seemed to keep very close to him. Roland couldn't say he was a big fan of crowds, either, unless he was rummaging through their purses in search of copper. It was hugely annoying when he was attempting to write. Speaking of writing, he'd have to buy or steal some parchment or ink so he could begin rewriting what he'd lost. That was if he wanted to move here. He was considering it–

"AHEM!" Mr. Varlend, standing atop the raised plinth, cleared his throat. His voice was deep and booming, even from Roland's position far behind the crowd of creatures, a baritone that made his figure more imposing than it already was. Roland shuffled in place, the anxious chatter quietening down. He could suddenly hear his breathing. "This... would have to be the most filled I've ever seen Midrun."

There was no chuckle over his attempt at a joke. Somebody from within the crowd coughed. Mr. Varlend once again cleared his throat and got down to the matters in need of attention.

"I cannot begin to understand what a lot of you have been through. We still see the smoke on the horizon." He gestured towards the direction Firemore was in. Roland realised he hadn't once looked back at the city. A faint purple cloud rose from the remnants of Firemore. The phoenix, thought to be capable of resurrection, had died. "The entire city was wiped out in _seconds_. I offer my deepest condolences to those who lost... _everything_ in that blast. I am glad, however, that quite a few of you still seem to be with us. I've been informed by hawk that a large number are still approaching. You are first to arrive."

A large number? Roland began to wonder if his friends were even here if that was the case...

No, they'd be here. He hadn't been able to find Myrtle. She must've already moved on. She was probably far ahead of him.

"It seems we enter a new age," Mr. Varlend continued. "An age of destruction. We must prepare. We must inform the Guardians remaining. I've been informed by survivors that the wrath of the purple dragon is upon us once again. The Dark Master, more or less, is returning in a new form. He has already begun destroying what we have after these five hundred years of peace."

The crowd gasped and shook with fear over the thought that war could once more devastate the Dragon Realms. But Roland was already going to make sure that didn't happen. He'd find Drevon and put a stop to this.

He really didn't like hearing these accusations, though. That was _not_ the purple dragon. That was a monster deep within that Drevon desperately tried to keep from clawing its way out. If anything, the purple dragon was doing this world a service.

Roland was bumped in the chaos, shaking him from his wandering mind. There was complete pandemonium. His eyes met Harper's for a moment. His face was steely... Cold. Was it Fluffy above them, giving him that look?

Roland looked up to find the dreadwing wasn't there at the moment. It'd gone somewhere else entirely. Convenient, he guessed, because a dreadwing entering Midrun wouldn't end well. Maybe Fluffy had gone off somewhere to find a predator he'd smelt, like the night before involving the death hounds. He took a bet Fluffy would be back by nightfall, however, and he didn't know how he would deal with that. Maybe he could greet the dreadwing outside of town.

" _Order_!" Mr. Varlend's voice carried across the entire town square. Roland had forgotten the crowd was still carrying on. The mayor's voice stopped them within seconds. " _All_ will be okay. Firemore will be rebuilt with time, as soon as the dark aether has dispersed. But in the meantime, this purple dragon will be hunted down. It's a shame we didn't know of his existence beforehand. I would suggest that he should've been put down years ago, before his power could grow."

Roland swallowed hard at that statement.

"But it is too late for that now. Armies will hunt for him. Armies will kill him. This dragon... no, this _monster_ will be destroyed before any more harm is done. We have prepared for this change since the Dark War. And we will not falter. You will receive vengeance for the atrocities committed. We will not allow the same thing to happen."

Mr. Varlend stopped to let it sink in. Roland's lip quivered.

"The purple dragon will die." The tall dragon spread his wings in a triumphant display of pride. "And no harm will befall any of you. We will send our word to King Amory. His holiness will put a stop to this before it can truly begin."

Armies would hunt for Drevon... He wondered if Drevon was here, listening to this now. How scared he would feel...

"For now, I welcome you all to Midrun," Mr. Varlend said. "Please, try your best to enjoy your stay, in spite of the horror that has befallen us all. We have plenty of taverns across Midrun. We have come to an agreement that their services will be free to you few hundred who survived for a day. Try to get a good night's sleep, and then perhaps we can speak of housing arrangements and educational needs for your children, unless you are heading southwest to Scaletooth or beyond."

The people hummed a murmur of agreement. Mr. Varlend seemed satisfied.

"Alright. If you have any questions, I will wait here for a while. The rest of you can leave. All will be solved posthaste! Do not worry. Good day."

The noise of the people rose immediately. It was clear the speech had affected them. Sadness, and now _hate_ , arose. The purple dragon would be detested for everything he'd done, even if he'd tried his damnedest to stop it.

Roland wondered if there was a way to kill the beast residing within the purple dragon without bringing harm to him. Mr. Varlend was right when he said the monster needed to be slaughtered, but not in the way he described.

Drevon was innocent. And even if Roland knew why they would think otherwise, he felt it was completely unjustified.

"Well..." Harper turned his gaze to Roland and the two dragonesses beside him. "Tristana, I guess we will spend a day or two here before we leave for Warfang. I'm not sure what you two wish to do. There is an orphanage here, a few streets to the east, but considering your past experiences with those, Roland, I am not sure if you wish to be there. First of all, however, I suggest we go for a drink..."

"I'm gonna look into the orphanage," Roland told him. He began watching the crowd, slowly but surely dispersing. "But there's something I need to do first before I go. You can run along; I'll meet up with you later."

"What are you doing?" Ashlyn asked. "I-if you don't mind me asking..."

"I'm just gonna look for something." His eyes flicked over the area, in search of anyone resembling the sewer thieves. "I'll join you all soon."

"We'll head to the _Old Hag_ , then. I know the lady there." Harper pointed to the west. "Follow that street and turn right on the third corner. Just look for the sign."

"Alright. See you soon." A short grin accompanied his farewell. "And get me a ginger beer while you're at it."

"Can do," Tris said. "See you, Roland."

He watched the three walk off for a moment, barely noticing Ashlyn looking back at him, before turning his eyes back to the town square packed with meandering bodies. He scanned every last scale as swiftly as he could. Specifically, he was looking for green, and he saw plenty of it.

But there wasn't a young green dragoness among them, with an underbelly of brown, a scar cutting across her eyes from a dagger wound long before she'd come to Firemore. He hoped her eyes would meet his, but there wasn't a sign of her anywhere.

Was she not here? Did she...

"No, she's somewhere else," he whispered encouragement to himself. "Somewhere else in Midrun. She probably just walked off before I could see her."

He looked every which way, trying to pick a direction, but there were four to go in, which meant he'd have a one-in-four chance of getting it right. Which way would she go?

If she thought anything like him... she would go to the orphanage, wouldn't she? That was probably the first spot any lost and alone child would go. Even if she'd hated the decrepit freak running the orphanage in Firemore just as much as him, she wouldn't let that dampen her reason to go there. She was more rational than that...

"To the east it is then."

He jogged down the street, ducking and weaving through legs shambling aimlessly like dead apes. Many buildings he passed in his search to find the orphanage. His pace quickened, heartbeat brisking with each second he didn't lay sight upon Myrtle or one of sewer thieves he knew from Firemore. He twisted around a corner.

There was the orphanage, proud and tall, a giant made of wood and stone. But Myrtle wasn't there, not sticking out like an inky splotch on parchment. He was bumped into by others, standing stiff, but he didn't care.

Where was Myrtle?

She wasn't here...

She wasn't anywhere, was she? He hadn't done enough searching, but now he was losing hope. He could run back. She'd be somewhere else completely by the time he moved back to the town square.

"No, she..."

She'd burnt away in that blast, hadn't she? Just because he couldn't find a body...

She was but ash. Nothing more. She'd already joined the Ancestors.

He'd kept saying he'd known she was alive. Why had kept lying to himself? It just made it worse. His heart sank.

The crowd was beginning to disperse. Still no sign of her. He fell to his rear, gaze buried in the cobble pathway. Nobody took notice of the Red Rodent. Nobody would ever help the Red Rodent.

There was a distinct shuffling. It moved so slowly, almost as though the creator were in shock. It made him look up. He had to blink several times to make sure what he was seeing was real.

"R-Roly...?" The green dragoness, with the brown underbelly and the scar across her eyes spoke his nickname. "I-Is that..."

He didn't feel like he could move a single muscle.

"Myrtle..."

Myrtle took hasty steps towards him and stopped inches from his face. It didn't seem like she knew if what was happening was real or not. She had to analyse the body in front of her for several seconds. With speed that surprised Roland, she threw her front legs around his shoulders, gripping him with force he could barely handle. Her claws nearly tore away his scales.

But he didn't care a single bit. He'd found Myrtle. He'd found her...

It hadn't even been long since they'd seen each other, but he couldn't help but feel like they'd been separated for years.

"Y-you..." she stuttered out after a while, breathing heavy, shaking. "Y-you were..."

He wanted to lift his legs and take her in the embrace as well, but he'd end up falling over. His joy was hardly contained, and his disbelief vanished in an instant. "I'm here now, Myrtle."

Roland felt something wet of hers drip onto his back. He could barely keep his own from falling.

"Roland... You f-fuckin' _stink_."

He couldn't help but crack a smile at that one. "Do you really care, though?"

"No. Not a single bloody bit."

She pulled away, eyes watery. The smile on her lips disappeared.

"I... I thought everyone was gone. I f-found you, and... y-your heart wasn't beating. You were _dead_... I-I guess I just didn't look hard enough for a pulse."

She ran a paw over her face, but tears fell anyway. He wondered all of a sudden if that strange wetness all the way back in Firemore had been her. He also began to wonder how she survived the blast when so many others hadn't. She'd lost a lot of blood back there in Firemore, and she seemed relatively okay now. He put it up to consuming spirit gems, and while the thought was worrying, considering how many she'd used in recent memory, he was glad she was fine. He'd ask her about it later anyway.

He looked over her shoulder and gave her wings a glance. They looked so... dry, like the scales wanted to peel away. He had no clue what it was, but he didn't have time to think about it. Again, he'd question her later.

She seemed bothered by his silence. "I'm sorry I left you there, Roland. I'm so, _so_ sorry..."

"Hey," he said, placing a claw beneath her chin. He didn't want her thinking he was mad at her. "You don't know how glad I am that you're even alive, Myrtle. I looked at myself, and I really _did_ look like I'd died. I don't blame you at all."

Even this tough dragoness' happiness could return at that and his affectionate touch. She did, however, swat his paw away a moment later, and planted a soft punch right into his shoulder.

"I'm not like this... ever. Guess ya know I ain't that tough anymore."

He snickered. "It's nice to know you care, Myrtle. And when have you ever been tough? It's not like I haven't seen you sad before. And you play a _harp_ , Myrtle. Harps are _not_ tough-girl instruments."

"W-w-what? N-no, I don't!" Her legs stiffened. He laughed at her total mortification. It was rare that she'd be on the receiving end of a fistful of embarrassment in any of their conversations. It was usually him taking the punches. "I–"

"You're not a bad singer, either." Even if his words were rooted in embarrassing her, he did have to compliment the skills she had. "I've listened behind your door before. It's kind of astonishing."

"I-I..." She decided she wouldn't press it. He'd already won. "Fine. Yes. I do play the harp. But... it's not like I can play it anymore. I couldn't get back into my room."

"Don't worry, I'll make the harp sounds for you," he said. She glared narrowly at him. "Doo, doo, doo–"

"Stop. You're makin' me cringe." Myrtle laughed in spite of her annoyance. "You're soundin' like my damn father. You even look like him, with that big scar on your eye!"

"Alright, fine." Roland stepped away from her. He'd forgotten the street was brimming with all manner of creatures, and felt his face warm over so fondly embracing one of his friends. It didn't matter to him too much, though, realising others had probably already done the same thing without him watching.

He let out a short breath. Now, for the question that'd been on his mind since Firemore had died. "So... Did any of the others...?"

"That blast was powerful enough to level the streets and the part of the sewers we lived in, Roly," she answered, her joy fading. "I did find a way in, through a mole hole away from where we lived, but I should've stayed away. I saw Leurona in there, and... w-well, I think you can guess."

After losing his belief that Myrtle had found her way to Midrun – even if he had found her in the end – he didn't think any of the others would've made it. The chances were too low. Hundreds of thousands had lived in Firemore, and very few of those had managed to make it out. In sorrow, he lowered his head, but he'd been expecting this. He was so lucky to have even the green dragoness before him. He didn't know if he had the right to ask the Ancestors to bless him more than they already had.

There was always the chance they _had_ made it out, and that was what he wanted to believe. But he knew there was no use in hoping for something that wasn't there anymore.

"What about Drevon?" he asked in between his thoughts. Myrtle's eyes brightened at the name, but quite quickly they returned to being downcast.

"Well... he's actually here right now."

"He _is_?!" That got him excited more than anything. Myrtle, however, looked the complete opposite.

"He's not doin' too good right now, Roly." It was the monster inside Drevon that'd brought them here in the first place. What could Drevon even be thinking right now? An entire civilisation wiped away by the fury within him. "He's not in good shape at all. He's nothin' like the Drevon we knew. He's barely spoken to me. He's anxious everyone's gonna come and kill him, and after that speech, he does have a right to be, but I dunno what to do. I know Drevon isn't... that _thing_ we saw, but... You should just see for yourself, Roland. He's hiding in an unoccupied home on the outskirts of Midrun."

Roland nodded. He'd have to wait and find out. He really wanted – no _needed –_ to see Drevon again.

At the same time, he had a feeling in his gut that Drevon was going to do something rash. Roland thought maybe it was his anxiety getting to him. He tried to shake the feeling, but the rivers in his mind tossed and turned with terrible thoughts, his efforts in vain.

He just followed Myrtle, hoping his best friend would be okay.


	16. Shattered Scales

Shattered Scales

His chest tight with anxiety, Roland stared the building down before him. His gut tried to hold him back, but he had to press on. He tried to summon the words he would say to the purple dragon when he got inside, his mind futilely wandering.

"This is the place," Myrtle said, stopping on the grassy hill overlooking the building. Strangely, it was built inside a rounded depression in the ground, almost as if the land around it had sunken. Moss suffocated the timber, gnarled over the top like old branches, left there neglected. It took him a while to find the door, hidden within the mass of life and rot.

Some of the tendrils had been cut away recently, he noticed, near the door and what appeared to be an arched window. The window pane had been smashed; chunks of glass lay on the ground beneath it. He pondered whether Myrtle and Drevon had broken it, trying to get it open. Even from his distance and with his years of living inside a sewer, the rotten scent wafting from within the building made his stomach clench. It almost smelt how Fluffy did.

"I dunno how he's gonna react to seein' you. I told him you were dead. That's what I thought, anyway... I'm worried he might look even worse now."

"How so?" Roland questioned. He could only imagine what that dark aether had done to him. Had his colours faded, like those that'd expended the last of their magic in absolute fury? "What does he look like?"

"He's..." Myrtle stopped with a sigh. She pointed towards the opening in the building where the moss had been slashed away. "It's probably best just to show you. He's up in there. You can fly up there if you want, but I'm just gonna go through the door."

"I'd rather not. Gem burn. It's been in my wings for a couple days now. I can fly, but it hurts too much for me to want to." He looked behind her head again, noting how oddly dry her wings were. "What's up with your wings? The scales kinda look like they're peeling."

"Oh, my scales are a bit sensitive," she said. Even if that was the issue, he couldn't deny just how painful it looked, although she didn't seem to be in any real agony. Roland knew it stung to rip a scale off. "Don't worry about it. It's nothin'. Hurts a bit, but that's alright.."

Roland decided to let it go. She was okay. It'd heal with time. "Okay. Let's... go and see Drevon, then, I guess."

He followed Myrtle down the gentle slope. Myrtle fiddled with the rusted padlock on the door before it clicked open. Light pooled inside the entrance as she pulled it, the handle falling off with a soft crack; Myrtle shrugged and threw it to the ground. Roland grabbed his snout as the odour ripped through all his senses. He swore he could smell the old hag from the orphanage in there...

Myrtle found the will to laugh at his disgust, even though she felt the exact same way. "Yeah, it fuckin' reeks in here. Never thought anything could smell so much worse than those bloody sewers. I can smell a million wet dogs. I think it's comin' from the basement. It's a bit better at the top."

"Thank the Ancestors for that." He took his first apprehensive step into the building. Wet moss squelched beneath the pads of his paws – being used to stepping in undesirable substances, he didn't mind so much, but now he truly did want a bath, and not just a short wash in a river, either. The walls were black and green with rot and mould; the house stood on its final legs. A well-placed punch to one of the supporting beams could probably knock the whole thing down.

The only thing left inside the dying home was a set of stairs. A few of the planks were missing, broken and on the floor, and a couple desperately hung on by what looked like toothpicks, but it did seem at the very least climbable.

"I think there was a fire here," Myrtle said. "And that they were trying to knock this house down. It seems like they lost interest, though. Lazy moles being lazy moles, I guess, but hey, it gives us a place to stay for now."

"I'm guessing Drevon's up there?" He looked up. Drevon hadn't noticed them yet, he thought. He couldn't hear the purple dragon shifting, either.

"Yeah, he is. He went to sleep a little while ago." She walked over to the steps. "Be careful as you go up. Step on the boards I do. I figured out the way."

One at a time, they climbed the set of steps. Dust and chipped wood fell from the boards they both stepped on, but they held firm. The top floor was smaller and the smell wasn't nearly as bad, although it lingered. His eyes were on the door in front of him.

Myrtle allowed him to go first. He took a step, the boards creaking. Another. From the other side of the door, he could hear, even feel, a faint whispering, but it sounded nothing like Drevon. He wrapped his paw around the handle, instinctively holding his breath.

His paw quivered. He turned it so, unnaturally, slow. Almost, he didn't believe he would be able to bear what he found on the other side.

 _Click._ He opened the door.

Roland was a shadow standing in the entrance, and in the middle was another, just like him, bent down and slumbering. The light purple the scales once carried had dimmed into a deep violet that he almost mistook for black. His body was cracked, chipped, broken. Every lustrous scale had shattered. And through the cracks a dark energy swam, coiling around the body, serpentine in nature. His horns, once silver and gleaming, were gone.

Was this... Drevon? Roland barely recognised the dragon. Every aspect about him had changed.

Roland took another step, and this alerted the purple dragon. Drevon shook from his slumber.

"Who's there!? Myrtle?" he exclaimed. Milky eyes jolted open. Roland could barely see the pale purple inside them. The dark aether swam faster, more violent.

Roland cleared his throat and took another pace forward. "It's me, Drevon. It's Roland."

Drevon had to stare for a while before he finally recognised his best friend.

"R-R-Roland?"

Roland, shivering, put on his best smile. "The one and only."

Drevon didn't seem to believe it at all. The darkness calmed and Roland thought he could see more purple amongst the dark aether. The purple dragon took slow steps over to the red.

"Y-you're alive? I-I'm not s-s-seeing things?"

Myrtle sat down. "I was about as shocked as you, Drevvy."

Roland gulped down the ball in his throat. Here he was. This was Drevon. Roland had been so excited to see his friends again, but now he felt... awful. He felt sick. This was what had become of their guild of thieves. Two survivors, other than him, one destroyed beyond belief.

And he felt as if he, in part, was to blame for it.

"H-how did you...?" Drevon stopped. He was shaking from head to toe.

Roland shrugged. "I dunno. Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you're not... like _that_ anymore."

Drevon didn't say anything else, more intent on being stupefied by the survival of his best friend. A wetness formed in his eyes.

"R-Roland... I..."

Roland lost the smile.

"...I'm sorry, Roland."

Drevon stared ahead for a few seconds before his eyes finally fell to the ground. A tear rolled down the purple dragon's cheek. He raised his front paws and wrapped them around the red dragon's neck, burying his face into his shoulder.

Roland opened his mouth but no words left it. He had no clue what to say. What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to reassure him that everything was okay? Because... it certainly didn't feel like it. Drevon wouldn't believe that.

He decided to do it anyway. There was nothing more he could do. "It's okay, bud."

"No," Drevon spoke into his shoulder, as expected. "It's not."

Roland thought he would feel happy, seeing and hearing Drevon again. His expectations had been shattered. He felt miserable for him.

Drevon felt so cold. Roland could feel his whole body vibrating, churning, with dark power.

"I-I did something... h-horrible. I-I... I k-killed..."

"Shh..." Roland leaned into Drevon. "That wasn't you, Drevon."

"That thing is me, a-and I... I couldn't suppress it. I-it's all my fault..."

"Look at me," Roland said. Drevon raised his head, letting his legs fall off his best friend. Roland stared into his teary purple eyes. "No, it's not. You are _not_ to blame. Don't say you are. That thing inside you did this. You're an awesome person, not that monster."

"Roly's right, Drevon," Myrtle said, walking over. A comforting smile curled her maw. "That thing isn't _you_."

Drevon shook his head. He breathed a frustrated sigh. "Doesn't change the fact it's inside me... I-it's a part of me."

"Drevon–" Roland said, but Drevon just kept shaking his head.

"I-I've tried _so hard_ to restrain it."

"You've tried your best, Drevvy," Myrtle replied. "Isn't that all you can–"

"M-my best isn't _good enough_." Drevon stepped away. Tears slipped through his attempts to stay calm. "I can... can always feel it down there. It hurts. All of this... _swirling_ around me?" He pointed to one of the coils, spinning and bubbling, before it returned to his body. "It... fucking burns. It hurts _so much_."

Roland didn't know how to sympathise. Living in constant pain? How did Drevon deal with that? He'd never told him any of this before.

"Y-you can't even _begin_ to understand how scared I always am that something is going to happen to me and then... all of _this_ is going to come out of me and... and hurt everybody." Drevon clenched his paws. "I'm a mistake. I'm _unnatural_. I shouldn't be like this. Seth was right. I'm just a fucking bomb waiting to explode."

"No, Drevon, you're not–"

"Shut up, Roland!" the purple dragon yelled. Roland was completely taken aback by his aggression. Drevon had never been so hostile. "You're wrong! Don't even _try_! You're not trying to convince me, you're just trying to convince yourself that I'm not a fucking _problem_!"

Roland's voice was small. "But I... don't believe that. At _all_."

Myrtle beside him had gotten up, and was standing a distance away, fearful. "Drevon, please stop. Y-you're makin' it worse."

The winding torrents of dark aether moved faster. The purple was fading into black once again. Tears streamed down his face. "Why should I even care anymore!? I'm in horrible pain! I'm afraid I'm going to murder everyone, and I f-fucking _have_!"

Roland felt he was getting desperate. He reached forward with a paw to grab his shoulder. "Drevon, please, we can find a way. There has to be a way to get rid of it, or to at least get rid of the pain..."

Drevon slapped his paw away. "Don't touch me! Get away! I-I... I might just end up hurting you, too!"

The darkness grew more rapid, and the deep violet had finally changed to black. All that was left of him were his eyes, and slowly they started to go, too. Drevon was fading away, embracing what he loathed.

"I've already killed almost everyone I love! Almost killed you... A-all because I couldn't bear Carolin dying! Sh-she never would've wanted this. She hates me. I know she does!"

Roland spoke in a hushed tone. "I doubt she would've. But... I'm sure she understands. She wouldn't hate you, ever."

Drevon continued as if he hadn't heard him at all. "I'm... h-horrible! I'm a terrible person! I'm a _monster_! _"_

Myrtle stopped before him. "Drevon, you're not a–"

"Yes, I AM!" Drevon stepped back. The floorboards cracked beneath his feet. Roland held his breath. "This world would be better off without a genocidal monster like me! The longer I'm alive, the worse everything is!"

Drevon gasped for air. The fury disappeared in a flash.

"...Monsters deserve to die."

Anger surged through Roland's veins from the rage Drevon forced upon himself, but it was cut off by a spike of fear when he realised what the purple dragon wished to do.

"N-no, Drevon, don't think those–"

But Drevon swiftly cut the red dragon off with a wave of his paw. The rivers of dark aether flowed slowly, coldly. Drevon's voice had finally calmed, though the horrible things spiralling through his mind had not.

"Why shouldn't I? It's what I deserve. It's what I _want_. Everyone would be happy. Nobody would have to worry anymore."

"Drevon, don't you _dare. We_ wouldn't be happy," Myrtle said. Her own anger grew. Roland thought he saw a hint of green floating around her muzzle. "There's a better way to get around this. _Try_ to have some faith."

Drevon merely sighed.

"I'm done."

Rapidly, the purple dragon swivelled around, then leaped out the window. A blast of green magic flew out of Myrtle's maw, but she was too late and he was too quick. Roland rushed after him, stopping at the window, watching as the purple dragon raced up the hill, disappearing behind a bush.

Roland didn't hesitate a second longer, finally realising the breadth of the situation. He leaped out after Drevon, with Myrtle right behind him, flapping his wings once as he hit the ground to break his fall.

Grass clumped in his quickening, tight paws, Roland charged after the purple dragon, dust spiralling behind him. His heart pounded with the energy of a thousand suns. His previous agility was thwarted in his desperation.

He'd never run so fast in his life. Drevon was _not_ going to do this, especially not after he believed so faithfully in his survival.

"Drevon! Stop! You're making a mistake!" he yelled. Drevon either didn't hear or didn't listen; the red dragon didn't know, for he couldn't find the purple dragon within the grass, stretching as high as his body.

"Drevon!" Myrtle called from beside him, slashing at the long blades with her claws. Her blunt talons didn't make much of a difference.

Roland shouted for his best friend once again, but nobody came. His eyes scanned every last blade, looking for a blackening scale amongst the tall dying yellow.

He didn't stop running, didn't even feel himself tire out. Adrenaline knew nothing of exhaustion. He would run until his legs gave way.

And then... there it was. He was quickly gaining on it. He leaned forward, gathering as much speed as he could, and nearly leaped into the air to tackle the dash of purple sprinting from him.

There was a sliver of silver. It came flying forward, hard.

The flat of a tail blade struck his skull with an almighty crack. He tripped, skidding through the grass, tumbling for what felt like minutes.

He lost focus on his goal, on himself. Adrenaline gave way to unconsciousness. Everything turned a deeper shade of violet than the scales of his best friend, now lost.

* * *

Roland clasped his head, groggy. Creamy walls stood around him, as plain as truth. Something soft lay beneath him, and something sharp stabbed at his head. He had to blink a few times to realise the gravity of the situation.

Where was he? Where was Myrtle?

He jolted upright, realising the gravity of the situation.

Where was _Drevon_?

He attempted to get up, but something in a doorway, tucked away in the corner, came rushing in, hearing the old blue bed creak.

"Woah, take it easy!" a female voice called, young and worried. It wasn't familiar to him. Plain white walls, semi-uncomfortable bed... Was he inside an infirmary? He looked over, finding a mole dressed in a black robe. A doctor, probably. "You've taken a pretty nasty blow to the head."

"W-what happened?" he asked. He sat straight, paw still on his head. "W-where–"

"You're in my house and I'm treating you," the mole said, polite. She stepped over towards a small cabinet beside his bed, grasping a tall glass and a jug of water from atop it. He found Garv's satchel sitting right beside it. "And I would like to find out what happened. Would you like a drink, Mister...?"

"Uh... Roland." The instinct to not give away his real name still remained, but what would it matter here? "And sure."

His throat did feel abnormally dry. He took the glass from her when she was done pouring, and guzzled it all down in seconds. He handed it back to her and she took it away with a smile.

"Okay, Roland. My name is Canetta. Do you remember what happened, Roland?" She set the glass back on the counter. "I wouldn't be surprised if you've lost your memory after that smack. I'm shocked the bruise isn't bigger."

Roland felt his forehead, but the lump there didn't feel too noticeable. It hurt like hell, though.

Canetta laughed. "You're lucky to get away with most of your looks still intact."

He managed a grin and was tempted to deny it, but he'd take any compliment he could get. "Well, in regards to what happened, I was running, and..."

Then it hit him. He'd forgotten in seconds. He almost leaped off the mattress.

Drevon was out there! He was about to...

"Wait, how long has it been!?" he asked, panic in his tone.

The mole looked at the watch around her wrist. "Uh, since that dragoness brought you in? About... six hours, probably. It's getting late."

He nearly cursed.

_Six. Full. Hours._

At this point, Drevon was already dead.

He threw his head into his paws, the headache worsening. He felt like crying right there, but managed to hold it in.

"Is something the matter?" The mole put her paws on the mattress, looking up at him. "Did something happen back there?"

"I... I really need to go," he said. She, however, shook her head.

"I'm really sorry, but I can't let you do that. I need to fill out a medical record." She offered an apologetic smile. "It's... what gets me paid by the medical council in Warfang. I won't go into a bunch of boring adult stuff, though. Let's make it as quick as we can and you can get out of here in a jiffy."

"I..." He wanted to get up and ignore her, but any good will he had left kept him from leaving. It wasn't like he had much to gain from leaving now anyway. What would he even do now? Reluctantly, the red dragon returned to laying on the bed. "Alright..."

"Good. This shouldn't take long. You had a friend waiting for you in the entry, but she left for the _Old Hag_ a little while ago. She said she wanted me to tell you that."

"Who?" he asked. The question would delay his departure, but he didn't care much for time anymore. Now he wanted to get it over with, so he could go somewhere he could be by himself.

"Know any lovely blue dragonesses?" She grabbed a slip of paper off the cupboard. "Ivory horns, blue eyes, has a pretty ring?"

Ashlyn? What was she doing there? How did she find them? "Yeah, I do. Did she bring me in?"

"Yeah, you and a green dragoness. She's surprisingly strong, carrying two unconscious dragons at once."

Had she followed them to the rundown building?

"That's clearly jogged your memory." Canetta giggled again. She held the slip of parchment up. "Mind telling me what happened now so I can fill out this?"

Roland certainly wasn't going to tell her he'd been running after a purple dragon before he knocked him out. He'd have to make up some kind of false but believable story.

"Uh... Me and that green dragoness you were talking about, Myrtle, got into a bit of a scrap, and we both ended up knocking each other out when we charged at each other."

Canetta grabbed a vial of blue ink and dipped a claw in. She scribbled something on the page. "Ah, I see. Typical dragons... What got you both into this fight? And why on the outskirts of Midrun of all places?"

"We just got into an argument before it got a bit violent. And... I dunno, it's where we were at the time, just exploring. We came from Firemore."

"I see. My deepest condolences, Roland." She bowed shortly before returning to the page. She wrote a few more words. "Well, that should be good enough for the firsthand account. I just need a signature now."

She handed him the page. He couldn't even read the writing. It was an inky, curly mess on the page. "Uh, I don't have one."

"Just make one up, then." She grinned. "It doesn't matter too much. I just need proof that I did treat someone."

He shrugged as she handed him the vial of ink. He dipped his claw inside, tilted his head for a few moments, before writing something resembling his name. He would probably forget his new signature.

"A signature isn't _really_ proof, but there's inspectors that come around every now and then to make sure I'm doing my job properly, and I'd be arrested if I wasn't... Sorry, I'm getting into adult stuff."

"Can I leave now?" He'd already started getting up.

Canetta nodded, finishing off the page with a long tick. "Yes, you're free. I'm guessing you don't want to be around that green dragoness for now? That's why you're in such a rush?"

"Uh, no, I was gonna... say sorry," Roland said.

"Oh, good on you! Well, I'll take you to her, then. She's been awake for a while, but hasn't wanted to talk to me yet." Roland wrapped his satchel around his neck and followed her as she walked over to the doorway with him. Myrtle, not wanting to talk? That was unlike her. But he could understand. He was struggling to speak to this doctor as well. He just wanted to get away from it all, but he had to make sure Myrtle was okay first.

They paced down a short hallway to a door on the opposite end of the room. It was cracked open, a thin slit of light cutting into the darkness. The window was curtained and closed, and he could see the outline of a green dragoness resting within. She didn't seem to be asleep, just laying, eyes closed.

"I'll leave you to it," Canetta told him, voice quiet. "I'm going to get back to reading. I will come back to get a report out of Myrtle as well."

"Alright, thanks." He gave her a soft smile.

She started walking off, but turned a moment later, a claw pointed at him. "Oh, by the way, tell your friend to stop consuming spirit gems for a while. She looks to be suffering from a minor case of crystallisation in the wings. The scales are peeling and a thin layer of skin-like crystal is growing underneath. It's not harmful yet, but it will get worse if she keeps on going how she is."

So that was what that was, not some scale condition, but another effect of spirit gem consumption, and Myrtle was trying to keep it from him, clearly. He'd heard of it. A dragon could create a powerful elemental blast and kill themselves in the process if too many were consumed at a single moment, but crystallisation worked over a long period of time, constantly absorbing too many gems, just not enough to complete overload their mana reserves. He'd have to try to keep her away from them if that was the case.

"Seriously, it can get to the point where the limbs have to be amputated." Canetta's voice turned deadly serious. It was almost unnerving to Roland, to hear her like that, to hear the word 'amputated'. "It gets _extremely_ painful when it reaches the torso and can be fatal in some cases. I've had to do an operation on a dragon before, and it's... not pretty, I can tell you that much. I don't want to see your young friend reach that point."

"Yeah, I'll tell her," he said. "Thanks again."

"You're welcome." She shuffled off, mumbling to herself, "Now, where was I in _Waterdark_...?"

Roland watched her disappear behind a corner before sighing to himself. He'd tried his best to be cheery for her. He didn't think he could manage that for Myrtle, too, but he'd at the very least try.

He pushed the door open, revealing the green dragoness. She looked at him briefly before returning her gaze to the bedding. Roland invited himself inside.

"I'm awake." Roland stopped by the side of the bed she lay atop. "I've got a pretty bad headache, but I'm okay."

"So do I." Myrtle fiddled with a loose thread on the blanket. She yanked it away, like a scale. Her face revealed her feelings of failure. "Gosh, I... I just don't know what to say, Roland. Do you think Drevon...?"

Roland wanted to say yes. He really, really did. But he just couldn't. All he did was shrug.

"He seemed real adamant about it," Myrtle replied, "thinking... killing himself would make everyone happy. There has to be a way to stop that thing from coming out, but it's too late to find answers now."

Roland looked up at her. She moved her legs and sat up, offering him a position on the bed. He gladly took it.

"What do we do, Roland?"

To find a place to settle down was what his answer would've been. He'd wanted to free Drevon from his darkness and travel to Warfang. Now he didn't want to move anywhere at all. He felt his stomach tighten.

"I don't know."

She seemed surprised by this. He always had an answer, a solution to any problem. This problem didn't have a solution.

Her frown was slight. "Are you gonna leave me?"

"What?" He looked at her as if she'd gone mental. "Why in the name of the Ancestors would I want to leave you?"

"I..." She shrugged. "I guess I just don't wanna be alone. You don't have to stick with me if you don't wanna. We ain't family."

"You're insane, Myrtle. You _are_ family!" he exclaimed. "You're like a _sister_ to me! You're... all I have left..."

She started playing with another loose thread. "...Forget it. Everyone else is gone, I'm... just afraid I'm gonna lose you, too."

Roland didn't want to cry anymore. He'd already accepted it. He felt he should've expected this when he came here. He'd been so, so naïve, thinking everything would turn out okay, thinking all of his friends would be here when so many others had been turned to ash. The Ancestors couldn't be so kind.

And he fully expected things to just keep getting worse.

When was he _really_ going to die?

He should've been killed in that blast. They all should've. They'd be at peace, then.

...No, stupid thoughts. The Ancestors blessed him with this life for a reason. He shouldn't be so disrespectful as to throw it away.

He just wished his best friend was here to share it with him. Seth was right in the end. Drevon really had been a ticking time bomb, just not in the way the brown dragon expected.

He felt bad for not crying. But that was just him trying to stay strong. His inner strength was all he had left.

"I think we should get out of here," Myrtle said. She'd already hopped off the bed and had opened the curtained window. It was getting late by the looks of things.

"Yeah. Let's go before she gets back." He followed her to the window. She yanked the doors of it open and climbed through, the tips of her brown horns brushing against the top of it. He looked back towards the infirmary one final time before accompanying her through.

They landed on the pavement outside. The streets were silent, the celestial moons their only companion. It was strange not seeing technology guide the way.

Roland followed Myrtle around a corner before halting at a bench adjacent to two bushy trees. The central fountain stood behind it, a stone depiction of the Great Twelve, water flowing out of their mouths.

"I know you said you don't know, Roly," she said, climbing onto the bench, "but..."

"Well..." He followed her lead, leaping up onto the cast iron seat. He fitted his claws between the grooves in the ornate pattern. His head lowered of its own accord. "I... I guess we can head to the _Old Hag_. I have friends there waiting for me."

"Wait, you do!?" She was totally astonished by this newfound information. "Why are you actin' like nobody from the sewers lived, then!? What the hell, Rol–"

"No, it's not like _that_ ," he intervened. "None of the thieves lived. Other people. Harper, Tristana, and Ashlyn."

"Harper, Tristana... Haven't heard of – wait, Ashlyn?"

"Oh, right." Of course she didn't know yet. Myrtle would still be mad at the blue dragoness.

"What the _fuck_ is she doin' with you!?" Myrtle's wings flared, her voice growing loud. She recognised this quickly, though, and asked again. "Why are you travellin' with _her_? You better have a damn good explanation."

"It's a long story." He shrugged. It would get his mind off Drevon, at least. "Where do I begin...?"

He started back in Firemore, his attempts to find spirit gems, and how he stumbled upon the blue dragon they'd seen in their robbery. Myrtle flinched at the memory. He told her of Ashlyn's father, that dragon, and how Ashlyn had been forced into it, that Aurus had been watching her do it. How she didn't have much of a choice in any of it, how Aurus would've done horrible things to her. Myrtle tilted her head.

"She saved me, too," he finished. "From Aurus."

Myrtle was in thought for a few moments before finally speaking her mind. "You can't just say she's not guilty of anythin', though. She _murdered–_ "

"I'm _not_ ," he said. "But I want to give her a chance. She's not a bad person by any means. She was just born under really unfortunate circumstances, kinda like you and me. Honestly, I'd do the same in her position. From how Ashlyn was putting it, it kind of sounded like Aurus was going to kill her if she didn't go through with it."

Roland couldn't read the expression on her face. If anything, she didn't seem swayed.

"Maybe you'll just have to talk to her yourself." Roland jumped off the seat. "She is really nice. A little timid, but she's still getting used to being around others. She only wants to make up for what happened."

She sighed. "Roly, I..." She stopped before the words came out. Roland frowned, thinking about what might've come out of her mouth. "Well, I trust your judgement. Whatever. Let's head to the _Old Hag_ and meet your new friends, I guess. There's nothin' else we can do. Maybe a few drinks'll get rid of this damn headache."

They started walking together, side by side, to the inn.

"I think you'll like her. Tristana, I mean." Roland winked. He needed something to get his mind off what had happened. He always found jesting a good way to do it. "She seems like your type."

"Pfft, what do _you_ know about my type, no-breath?" She couldn't contain her laugh. He relished in hearing joy from her. "You get off to that fuckin' Octavia girl and she's low-tier at _best_."

"Eh, I think you'll be surprised." Roland grinned. It might've been forced, but there was a hint of happiness in there somewhere. "Although, I doubt she'd be interested in someone as ugly as you, bird-snout."

"Considerin' it's comin' from you, lanky, I don't think I should care..."

* * *

"I think this is the place..."

"That sign _totally_ doesn't say _Old Hag_ ," Myrtle replied, looking at him with narrowed eyes. He peered up to find a wooden sign chained from a pole hanging over the door. Creamy white letters were carved into the birch, swirling and elegant. He felt embarrassed, missing the obvious (and literal) sign that they'd arrived. Her laugh was small and fleeting. "Ya big dork."

"...Shut up." His eyes wandered across the old, sturdy building before him. A large, comfortable looking place, far bigger than any others on the path, a gentle behemoth made of timber. Two steps led to an open door lit by an electric lamp. He was surprised to find that, considering his thoughts on not seeing any electricity. Just no street lights then, unlike Firemore. The coastal fishing town was clearly not as sophisticated or advanced as his old city.

He'd have to wait until he walked inside to get a better look, but the place was crammed with people, and the noise matched what he'd become accustomed to hearing as he walked the market square of Firemore. It was clear this night was particularly busy for the _Old Hag_. And they apparently weren't making a single copper piece off any of this? Even after what had transpired, this generosity felt unfounded, especially to him.

But he ignored that for now. A free drink was a good drink. "Alright, let's go in. We'll find my other friends."

She smiled before bowing shortly. "Freaks before ladies."

"You're not funny." He rolled his eyes and approached the door first, Myrtle following his tail. Usually, someone at his age wouldn't be allowed inside an inn, and the law was generally the same and concrete everywhere, but towns and cities could change some rules depending on how they felt. Elsewhere, consuming alcohol was illegal for a minor like he, but the legal age in Midrun was a young fourteen. That was about as far as Bailey the Drunk could lower it without enraging the people, or so he'd read in a book he'd stolen on the law once, curious about what he could get away with doing. Midrun had been lax on alcohol for centuries now.

He could see other kids in there already anyway. He chose to stop worrying and entered the doorway.

It was loud when he was outside, but this was a whole new level of noise. Glasses chiming, voices chattering and occasionally arguing around long tables, all deafening, echoing around the tall building. The scent of beer wafted across the room, and to Roland, the faint ginger in the air was heavenly. He could almost taste it. Hopefully downing a few would drown out the noise; his headache was only worsened by this place.

Nobody paid him and his green friend mind as he eyed the tables, looking for his recent companions. It took him a while, but he found they weren't around the longer tables and instead sitting towards the back, inside a walled booth. A small chandelier was hung above them, a miniature version of the great one fixed to the high roof amongst the timber beams. He made eye contact with Tris, who straightened from her hunched position on the seat. She grinned eagerly, briskly pacing towards him. Ashlyn saw him next and offered him a small smile before she looked at Myrtle. She returned to sipping her drink.

He waited for Tris to walk over, watching Myrtle at the same time in anticipation. She was turned around at the moment, looking at a green and black banner on the wall, embroidered with the famous Midrun Leviathan, a monstrous creature that would return to the shore every century for a day, a celebration held in its name. There was one on either side of the door, and another two over where the bar stood, on the left as he walked in.

"Hey, Roland!" Tris said, nearing him. "It's good to see you're alright. Ashlyn explained what happened. She found you knocked out, apparently. What happened?"

"That's what the doctor told me," he responded. Myrtle turned around, hearing him speak. "I'll explain what happened when we sit down. I'm fine now. Just have a bit of a headache. This noise isn't doing it any favours."

"Hey there..." Myrtle looked the yellow dragoness over, from head to paw, lost for words. Her maw fell another inch every second. "... _gorgeous_."

"Please, call me Tris – huh?" She tilted her head. Clearly she didn't like her full name and this instinctive response had grown from people calling her it. She didn't have any way to know _this_ was coming, though.

"T-Tris, I mean, yeah!" Myrtle cleared her throat. "...H-hey."

Tris frowned, perplexed, before she laughed softly. The green dragoness could not stop looking at anything other than her eyes.

Tris grinned before speaking again. "What's your name?"

Myrtle gulped. "M-Myr... Myrtle! It's Myrtle... Yeah. Call me Myrtle."

Roland could barely hold back a snicker. He was waiting for this to happen and had even expected it. The reaction was still priceless, no matter how well he foresaw it.

"Why don't we go sit down?" he suggested.

"Uh, sure, yeah! Follow me." Tristana turned around. Roland stood back for a few seconds, silently laughing at Myrtle. Her paw was to her chest, eyes fixated on her tail swinging back and forth. Roland thought he could hear her heart beating from where he stood

"Ancestors, Roly, you were actually _right_ for once."

"C'mon." He pulled on her leg to get her moving. They started following her. "Let's not keep her waiting."

Inside the booth were two soft, rectangular seats attached to each wall, donned in leather, around a polished wooden table. Ashlyn looked up at Roland, but didn't seem capable of eye contact with Myrtle. Myrtle did look at her briefly, but didn't have a thing to say. He didn't know if that was Myrtle trying to decide how she felt, or if she was still shocked by Tris.

"Oh... h-hey, R-Rol–" A cheetah sitting in the corner belched. Roland frowned at the normally serious, no-nonsense cat. Harper visibly swung back and forth, unable to keep himself upright. The red dragon counted three tall glasses in front of him, each presumably once filled with a beverage. In contrast was the amount the two dragonesses had drunk, still sipping at their first. Somehow, Harper couldn't resist the flavour of ginger beer. "G-g-good to... s-see you."

Myrtle didn't seem to know what to think of this. She sort of just shrugged and paid it no mind. Roland, deciding to take the initiative, sat down beside Ashlyn, and Myrtle was quick to follow him, joining his other side. There was enough space for their wings to barely miss brushing next to each other.

"Hi, Harper." He turned his head to Ashlyn. "And hey, Ash."

Ashlyn nodded, but didn't say anything. She seemed more concerned with keeping her distance from Myrtle at the moment. Roland was sure it would be fine. He'd have to convince her later.

"I... think you need to stop drinking, Harper," Tris said, trying to grab the beverage. Harper, seemingly out of it before, snatched his glass away, ginger beer spilling onto the floorboards.

"Get your paws off, Missy!" He pointed an accusing claw at Tris before going for a gulp. He spilt most of it down his front. "I'm not as think as you drunk I am!"

"You clearly are if you're mixing up your words like that." She giggled. "You're usually quite articulate when you speak."

"W-what in the f-f-fuck is _articulate_?!" Harper slammed his glass onto the table. Roland was surprised it didn't shatter in his paws. The cheetah clutched a paw to his head. "Ugh, my head..."

Tris sighed, voice low. "Wait here, guys. I'm gonna go get Harper a room." She jumped off her seat, pulling on Harper's leg. "Let's go get some scotch, Harper!"

"Ooh, that sounds g-good to me!" Enthusiastically, the cat left with Tris, leaving the other three on their lonesome. He watched Tris head to the bar briefly before heading towards a set of steps to the second floor, where the rooms were probably kept. It seemed likely Tris had had to do this with the cheetah before.

Nobody spoke. Somehow, the silence of their booth drowned out the noise next to them. Roland's brain ran a million miles a minute, in search of a talking point to relieve the tension.

"So..." He looked at Ashlyn. "How did you find us?"

"I, uh..." Her whole body was tense, straight. "I-I followed you. I stopped when you both went inside that old house. I heard a window break and when I went over to see what happened, I found both of you knocked out. S-sorry for following you, I really shouldn't have..."

"It's okay. You did the walk back for me. _And_ I got to sleep on a comfy bed." He smiled. He lost it when a spike of pain shot through his skull. "Where can I get a drink?"

"Coming around now, little one," an elderly voice said. He turned around to find a small mole, probably in her eighties, carrying an overly large jug of fizzy, frothy drink in two paws. He found it funny that he was being called 'little one', but he didn't care; he lost interest in all else at the sight of ginger beer.

And so _much_ of it, too...

"There's four of you over here now and I thought I would bring a dragon-sized jug. You're actually the biggest group we have!" The old lady heaved the jug onto the table. "That sweet yellow 'ness went and put the cheetah to bed. I have no doubts the four of you will be able to finish this off, but be careful. It's so sweet you probably won't even realise each glass is twelve percent alcohol!"

"Ancestors..." Myrtle exclaimed. Dragons as young as they would be drunk after even two of those. This was too much for even a fully developed, overweight adult dragon. "You really think we can finish off that?"

"Oh, this stuff is _addictive,_ I'm sure you'll be able. I'll leave you with it. My colleagues and I have more people to attend to, serving ginger beer to all. Tonight's a good night to get drunk if I do say so myself." The mole waved her paw and left them to their own devices. He barely heard her next words over the noise. "Have a good time, kids!"

Roland stared at the huge jug with keen interest. He pulled it towards himself, wondering how in the world he was supposed to pour such a thing, when he saw a little black lever at the bottom. He pushed an empty, clean glass still on the table over, flicking the lever up.

He looked into the beverage he'd just poured, fizzing, frothy at the top. He put the glass to his lips and took a sip.

His eyes went wide. Calling this drink heaven would've been an understatement. He expected a spicy, bitter taste, regardless of the fizz, because of the alcohol level, but somehow it remained sweet and even tasted light. He shivered in his seat. He allowed more of the amber fluid to trickle down his throat.

"I know it's bloody good, Roland, but Ancestors... Do you _want_ to get wasted in two seconds?" Myrtle, despite her seriousness, laughed. "...Oh, what can I say? I do spirit gems. Go nuts."

He'd almost already finished his glass before he realised Myrtle was speaking to him. The headache hadn't disappeared yet, but with just one it was already fading. He felt... so much happier. He couldn't explain it. After everything that had happened, he thought he would be feeling down, but this drink just seemed to delete sadness entirely.

"I need another," he said quickly before placing his glass beneath the jug again.

"But maybe you _could_ slow down." Myrtle laughed again, but this time it was slight.

"Nah. I need this." He put the glass to his mouth and started guzzling it down.

Ashlyn frowned at him. He couldn't tell if she was worried or confused. He didn't really care, though. "Uh, R-Roland..."

He put his glass on the table again. He spilt orange liquid over his paws in his attempt to get yet another. "Damn, you guys need to drink more of this. Holy... g-geez it's good. Best thing I've ever drunk!"

"Uh, Roly, you might wanna..."

But he didn't hear the rest. He was already downing his third like some crazed lunatic. He didn't remember much after that. By the time he was at his fourth, his vision was blurring over. He felt himself swiftly lose consciousness after a dull thud on the wooden table.

* * *

Roland awoke with a soft groan. His head throbbed with the pain of yesterday; he'd thought it gone...

What had happened?

He clenched his paws, grasping something plush beneath him. Yet another bed. Was he in the infirmary again? Or had he been dreaming?

He looked around, but the walls weren't that gentle creamy colour, instead bare but polished wood. The bed felt cheap, somehow more than the one in the infirmary. The room was bigger, and there was a lot more going on inside of it. This was clearly the inn.

While downstairs had been exquisitely crafted, attention to detail a must, the top floor was nothing special and even felt rushed. He guessed nobody came here often. It wasn't a long walk back home for whoever lived here, considering the inn's central location, and he didn't think there would be many travellers around these parts, either. His eyes wandered across the darkness and he saw the faint form of a dragon beside him in a separate bed, slumbering soundlessly. The green scales were darkened by the lack of light, but he could tell it was Myrtle.

And then he remembered. The alcohol had knocked him out. Of course, it was incredibly strong, but it was clear he couldn't take much anyway. Myrtle or Ashlyn had brought him up. At least the beer had tasted nice...

He had a pretty filthy taste in his mouth, though. It tasted loosely of vomit. He couldn't quite remember all the details. The inn was a hazy memory.

Roland clutched his head again. He clenched his eyes shut as another spike of pain shot through his skull. He looked ahead. Beyond his bed and the small room was a glass door leading to a little balcony overhanging the inn.

He really needed some fresh air...

The red dragon climbed out of bed, careful not to disturb Myrtle from her sleep. Hurriedly, he glided over the boards with his wings, the gem burn having finally worn off.

He stepped outside; the chill breeze struck like a bullet, but he was quick to grow tolerant to it. The sewers had never been warm when winter approached. He walked along the boards, grabbing onto the timber railing with his two front paws.

If it had been a spire, like the ones in Firemore, he would've been able to see all the pretty lights that shone like glimmering diamonds. But Midrun was dark. The town lay silent, the wind playing in his ears an exception.

The moons were pale but large, cowering behind red-tinted mountains that peaked beyond low clouds. Far beyond, to the left, days' travel away, he could see the faint outline of trees, the Everlost Forest standing tall in its mystical beauty, glowing blue. Its light stemmed from large mushrooms that were luminous come nightfall.

A shiver ran down his spine when he felt a soft coldness land atop his head. Nothing like rain, otherwise he would head back inside. He grabbed the powdery substance off the top of his head.

Snow. Winter was right around the corner. It wouldn't envelop the land here, but it would only make things colder.

A breeze picked it up off the pad of his paw and blew it away. He sighed.

Nothing was going right... Almost everyone he knew was dead. He'd lost everything. The condolences of the people here weren't enough.

And now his best friend was gone, too.

He folded his front paws, laying his elbows on the railing. It had only been yesterday. Roland felt like he should've already moved on. He knew he should've expected all of this. He'd been so naïve.

He laid his head on his paws, standing on the toes of his hind legs.

Why did it have to be this way?

Could he blame anyone? His closest blame was Ashlyn, but she didn't want any of this, and didn't have much of a choice in the matter.

Could he blame himself, yet again? Maybe he could've been a better friend... Maybe if he hadn't been so clueless, things would've been better.

He breathed a sharp breath into his paws before lifting his head. If he could somehow turn back the clock, he would. Things would be perfect. He'd make it so.

"It's cold out here," Myrtle said from behind him. He wasn't too surprised she was awake. She'd probably heard him groan. "Do you wanna come back inside?"

"I'm getting some fresh air," he replied. "My head hurts."

"Really?" She walked forward, joining him on the railing. She crossed her front legs like him. "Barely feelin' my headache now." She gave a low chuckle. "Then again, you're probably hung over from all that bloody ginger beer. That was some strong shit."

"It's kinda weird being able to drink without getting in any trouble at all," he said. "Funny how people still find the age limit fine."

"It is weird." Myrtle looked at him with a slight smile on her face. He knew she could tell he was thinking about more than just the age requirement for alcohol. It was that expression; those studying eyes, that apologetic gaze. It wasn't just that she knew he was thinking of more, it was that she knew exactly what it was. Was he really that predictable? "I'm not a heavy drinker myself. Not a big fan of alcohol. But I don't mind free stuff."

Roland sighed. "Myrtle, I can tell you're worried about me. Please don't be."

She didn't seem shocked in the slightest. "Of course I'm bloody worried, but I'm not just worried about you. I'm worried about us and what we're gonna do. We've lost another friend... I'm just glad to have you. That's enough of a blessing."

"Pfft." He shook his head. "Me? A blessing?"

"You're better than nothin'," she said. "I'd... rather you than anybody else."

He shot her a look, opened his mouth, but didn't say anything, and returned to looking at the mountain range.

"Dunno if you understand this, Roland, but you do matter to me." She gently placed a wing on his back. "That counts for somethin', right?"

It took him a few moments, but he had to smile eventually. Being cared about... It was an amazing feeling. He needed to take what he had now and make the best of it. Myrtle wouldn't be leaving him any time soon.

"Ouch..." Myrtle suddenly retracted her wing, jerking forwards.

"What's wrong?" he asked, watching her wings suspiciously. Of course, he'd forgotten to tell her about the effects of crystallisation on her wings. "Oh, right..."

"Yeah, this scale condition is–"

"C'mon, Myrtle, we both know that's a lie." He pointed a claw at her wing, a spot where he could see a shining skin-like layer of crystal growing just beneath the scales. "The doctor told me about it."

"...Okay, fine." She sighed. "But I'm tryna do somethin' about it. I'm keeping away from spirit gems."

"That's good to hear. I don't think it's bad if you don't have many, just try not to go overboard."

"I'll do my best." She grinned. "Anyways, we should probably head back to bed. It's bloody cold out here."

"...I think I'm gonna wait out here a bit longer," he said. "You can go back. I'm just gonna look at the stars for a while."

"Welp, alright." She turned around, opening the sliding door. "Goodnight... or, well, I should say good morning."

She shut the door behind her and then he was alone once more. These feelings of loss... He would just have to ignore them. The pain would go away eventually, right? He could learn to forget about it?

That was what he intended to do. To him, it sounded like the right thing to do. What else could he do other than move on?

He spent a lot longer than he thought he would outside, staring into astral skies soaked in black, and muted reds and greens, to the point where he nearly fell asleep on the railing. His train of thought, however, kept him from dozing off.

Where would Drevon be now? More importantly... had Drevon _actually_ done it?

He was done being hopeful for any of his friends. The likely answer was that he had, and Roland felt like he'd failed to realise when Drevon was really hurting. Either that, or Drevon had masked the agony he spoke of very well.

He kept feeling it was the former.

He shook his head. No need to think badly of himself right now. What else could he focus on?

"...That streak in the sky," he said to himself. "What had that been?"

Magic? Technology? Just a strange occurrence, an oddity in the skies? He chose to believe it was magic of some kind. But magic had to come from somewhere. Perhaps it was a dragon, moving fast enough to create a cloudy trail behind it. Wind dragons _could_ move that fast in the air, after all, if they really put effort into it. This trail had looked more like smoke, though. Maybe his eyes were deceiving him. He'd been tired.

His eyes caught the sight of something hovering in the centre of the red moon. He had to squint. Its body grew closer with each passing second. It reminded him of the thing he'd seen with Drevon when he'd woken him up from his slumber, eager to show him something. The last time that would ever happen.

He now knew that thing had to be a dreadwing. And this was no different. As the body got closer, he began to recognise who it was, the string laced with sapphire swinging on its neck.

"Fluffy?" He bent over the railing more. Gusts of air washed over him as the dreadwing came in for the landing. The whole balcony shook with the weight, but it thankfully held firm.

The dreadwing whimpered, a soft sound he'd never heard from his monstrous companion before. Fluffy even seemed to be shivering, his skin vibrating. Roland walked over, frowning. He was lucky to have the dreadwing show up now and not when the village was teeming with life. He was curious, though, to find out what Fluffy was so startled by.

"What's wrong?" he whispered. He looked back to make sure Myrtle was still asleep. Unlike before, where she'd probably just had her eyes closed, she definitely seemed to be slumbering now. Luckily, the creature's landing hadn't jerked her from the coils of sleep.

Fluffy simply bent down. It took Roland a few moments to realise what the dreadwing was trying to say.

"Ride?" he asked, and the dreadwing nodded. Well, his short, dangerous ride with Fluffy had proven to be useful after all, for he was beginning to understand these signals. He wouldn't have to feel scared, either, because his wings no longer pained at even the thought of flying.

He screwed up his nose at the horrible scent the dreadwing carried with him, rot, blood, and... fish? He didn't mind it, though. His curiosity ripped the disgust to shreds. "Why, Fluffy?"

Fluffy didn't say anything, taking off. Roland wasn't in control, but the dreadwing didn't fly fast at all. He seemed as if he didn't want to go back, constantly shaking, fear overcoming the beast that once struck it into the hearts of many. It was weird seeing Fluffy anxious.

It made Roland anxious.

For a long time, there was nothing. Just an expanse of dark green. They didn't fly high as they exited Midrun. There was a small patch of land ahead that stuck out to Roland. He thought they were heading there for a moment, only for Fluffy to suddenly veer left, picking up speed. Roland clutched thick tufts of hair to hold on.

Down they flew, down a cliff face lit by small green and blue clusters of spirit gems, a rare sight in this world where they'd been used for power. The path that led down the cliff was lit by blueish bugs and glowing embers, stopping at a beach and a wooden dock right at the base of the hill. As they neared the timber platform, Roland thought they were going to turn, only to swiftly change directions once again, towards the rocky outcroppings and cavernous cliffside that held Midrun above the waves.

It was five minutes before Roland saw it. They flew through an expansive cave. Roland wished he had been able to bring his lantern with them, long lost in the ruins of Firemore. It turned out he didn't need it, for the strange light that glowed around the corner would be enough to light the way.

It was a glowing blue. At first he thought it was those blue bugs, but he couldn't be more wrong.

There was an object in the centre of the cave. It... pulsed. A fleshy, bulbous thing, pumping blue blood. Tendril-like veins curled along the rocky floor, wrapping around spirit gems that barely glowed, power sucked straight from within.

He was immediately disgusted when Fluffy landed. It was like a heart ripped straight out of the body, but somehow still living. Every time it pumped blood, it made a noise.

 _Ka-thump_.

Fluffy stopped where he was. The dreadwing didn't dare move any closer. Roland was only able to stare at the thing.

He was in agreement with Fluffy, that this thing was frightening, but he was far more disgusted and, grimly, intrigued by the sight of it.

 _Ka-thump_.

Was it really a heart? Was it an egg? He didn't know. Fluffy had taken him here for a reason, however. It couldn't simply be that Fluffy wanted to show him what he'd found, could it?

He got off the dreadwing and took a few steps towards it. Somehow, Roland thought it was quickening, trying to match his own heartbeat.

He stopped where he was. The object was translucent, and a thin dark form remained within. It almost looked like a dragon, but with the two front legs missing?

A defect?

Or was it a wyvern?

 _Ka-thump_.

He got closer. He wanted to know more about it. He had a burning desire to reach for knowledge.

Fluffy screeched, but Roland had already gotten too close. The heart went from matching his own heartbeat to furiously pumping, inflating and deflating.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

Roland stopped moving. He was too late, though. It beat so hard and fast, the thin exterior couldn't possibly contain the energy. It slowed for but a moment. One, two, and then bang.

There was a white glow. Roland didn't feel himself lose consciousness.

He felt as if he didn't exist.


	17. Left and Forgotten

Left and Forgotten

" _...The purple dragon?"_

" _Yeah,_ the _purple dragon," Myrtle replied. "Didn't even know one existed before I met 'em on the streets."_

" _Neither!" Roland looked past Myrtle. Those shimmering purple scales... Never did he think he would see the day the old prophecies would come true. This was incredible!_

 _When he thought of purple dragons, he thought of heroic creatures, ones destined for greatness. Bravery incarnate, the true embodiment of heroism. But he had to frown. This purple dragon... didn't look heroic at all. He was shivering. Scared. As if he was a_ normal _dragon._

 _Maybe Roland had been wrong. He did_ look _just like a normal dragon. A normal child, like he. Nothing special, except for the scales._

_Was that why he was so scared?_

_Roland kept his voice down, a need to ask emerging anyway. "Why's he so... afraid?"_

_Myrtle laughed. Even if she was only slightly older than him, she'd always been smarter, able to understand these things. Her young looks and unending need to swear in every second sentence actually gave way to quite a bright mind._

" _I'd say he's been through a bit," she said. "He told me they ran from home. I understand. I sorta had to do the same. I was..._ _Well, let's just say my mother wasn't very happy with me."_

" _Huh... wait,_ they _?" He eyed the purple dragon, who was watching something on the floor. It only occurred to him then that there was a green dragoness with the purple drake, half the size of them all. She looked only seven._

" _That's his sister. Pretty sure he said her name was... Carolin?" Myrtle itched at her chin. "Didn't give me his own name, though."_

" _I don't like this." Seth, who'd been waiting behind in the shadows, finally stepped forward. The brown dragon towered over them all, even at only thirteen years of age. Roland would've been scared, and he had been for quite a while, but that brown dragon_ was _his best friend. Seth looked cruel and unkind; his appearance – what Roland liked to call ugliness – simply didn't do him any justice._

_Roland lifted a brow over his statement, however. "Why not?"_

" _You ever heard what the purple dragons are capable of?" Seth asked. Roland nodded, but Seth didn't seem to take that as an answer. "No, you're too young to really know. Has anyone ever told you the story of Spyro?"_

" _Yeah, he was a hero!" Roland jumped in glee. "He beat up Malefor and took the throne!"_

" _And then he went absolutely mad," Seth continued for him. "They say stress got to him, and then the dark power went to his head. He murdered his own mate before being decapitated by his son, who was a part of the elite guard at the time."_

" _What's decapitated mean?" Roland tilted his head. Seth sighed._

" _His head was cut off."_

" _...Oh."_

" _If anything," Seth said, "we can't trust the purple dragon. We don't know what he's capable of. He could very well destroy us all if we're not careful. He's like a bomb waiting to explode."_

_Roland looked at the purple dragon in fear for a moment. But... surely they weren't all the same. Of course, he'd only ever heard of Malefor and Spyro, and that was as far as history wrote for the purple dragons, but that wouldn't make whoever came after bad. He was almost certain this purple dragon wouldn't be like them._

" _Well, I wanna talk to him anyway," Roland exclaimed, turning away from the taller brown dragon. He thought he heard a low growl come from Seth, but he ignored it. Myrtle shrugged and followed closely behind him._

_Beneath a streetlight stood the purple dragon and his younger sister. He appeared to be whispering comforting words to her, and she was shivering with what Roland assumed was terror. Either that or she was cold from the air and the rain pattering against their scales._

_Roland cleared his throat, the purple dragon turning his head. Purple eyes stared into golden ones for the first time._

" _Hi!" Roland said. "What's your name?"_

" _M-me? M-my name is.. is..." The dragon mouthed it, but no noise came._

" _I can't hear you over the rain! Speak up!"_

" _...D-Drevon. My name's Drevon."_

* * *

Roland gasped, swinging wildly, as if he could reach out and draw in oxygen. His lungs were starved; he felt like he'd been drowning, diving deeper into an ocean that wanted nothing more than to engulf him, his body paralysed. He clutched the rocky floor, holding onto a cracked stalagmite jutting out of the ground. Everything felt like it was moving slowly; his vision was tinted with a bleary blue.

It went away in a few seconds. He took deep, calming breaths.

A loud body approached him and he turned in fright, only to find Fluffy at his side. The creature whimpered, sniffing him, as if that would do any good. Roland waved Fluffy's concerned face away from his.

"I-I-I'm okay," Roland said. He breathed hard, to the point he could almost feel his lungs inflating, before wrapping a leg around the rock, as tight as a knot. "I'm fine..."

Something oozed down his nostrils, onto his lip. He didn't even have to look at the paw he placed beneath his nose to tell what it was. Why was he bleeding? Was he injured anywhere else?

He looked at his body, but that seemed to be it. He wiped the blood off his nose, thoughts turning to his sudden flashback.

"...Strange."

Why had he seen it? Was it the heart?

He looked to where the odd heart-like object had been positioned, but now it was gone. Faintly glowing ooze covered the floor, like the entrails of a million dead glow bugs. Whatever had been inside of it was gone, too. The stone floor was cracked and broken, and where the heart had been lied a small crater. The heart exploding must have caused that.

An explosion powerful enough to destroy some of the cave, yet he wasn't hurt, even though he was standing right beside it.

Within the blue goop were also strange orange crystals. He'd seen them in Firemore as well, when he'd woken up, and assumed they were nothing more than shattered riches from some wealthy family, but these ones certainly hadn't been there before. Were they spirit gems? He'd never seen an orange one before.

Roland let go of the stalagmite, Fluffy watching carefully as he neared the site of the blast again. He bent down and lifted a shimmering chunk to his eyes.

It didn't have that same feeling, of energy coursing within. Yet it was familiar. He couldn't place a claw on it. He'd barely seen it before, but he felt like he was supposed to know what it was without even thinking about it. When it wasn't obscured by the blue light, the substance glowed an abnormally warm amber, like gentle candlelight.

And, weirdly, it seemed to be shrinking with each passing moment. Very, very slowly, evaporating like rainwater.

"How odd..."

By now, his breathing had calmed, and he dropped the stone to the ground. The crystal looked surprisingly inexpensive, but each chunk was vanishing with time. He would've loved to earn a little money.

But of course, there were more important things than that at the moment. His greed could wait another day. He'd almost forgotten that he'd left Myrtle alone in their room.

He took the pocket watch from Garv's satchel, and read four-thirty in the morning. The heart had knocked him out for longer than he'd thought.

He took a good look at Fluffy. "We better get back. Fluffy, _ride_."

Fluffy followed his commands, lowering himself to the floor. Roland would've flown back, but this dreadwing was far faster than he, and Roland didn't have the energy to fly the ten-minute journey back.

He climbed atop Fluffy's back. "Back to where we were. Where you found me. The inn. Whichever one of those works for you."

The dreadwing took a running start before leaping into the air, heading through the cave the way they'd come, across the seas and back to the inn.

"I need you to go somewhere else, Fluffy," he told the dreadwing as they landed. Fluffy cocked his head. "Um... _leave_. Find me later."

Thankfully, Fluffy seemed to listen. He launched himself off the balcony again and disappeared into the night.

Roland was happy to find Myrtle still asleep, so he climbed into bed. He was confused by what he'd seen, a memory of the past. Why had his dreams turned to that? It seemed far too coincidental to dream of that, something he barely even remembered, so related to what had happened earlier.

And that strange feeling earlier. He'd felt like he wasn't even in a physical plane of existence, like he'd been ripped from his own soul. What was all that about? Perhaps it was all the blue goop. He didn't seem to be covered in the stuff, though.

Maybe he was just analysing this information too much, like everything else. That was probably it. Fluffy had probably just been scared of something, and even if he couldn't figure out what it was, it couldn't be at all important to him. He chose to accept he'd just seen something weird.

But he didn't think he could accept no answers for very long.

"What d'you mean a... blue pulsing heart _thing_?"

Myrtle stared at Roland from her bed as if he was a lunatic. He almost felt that way. He found it hard to believe that eldritch horror had even existed, but he knew it was there. Its deep thump still beat a rhythm into his mind.

"You remember Fluffy?" he asked. She shook her head. "The dreadwing we saw at the spring?"

"Oh... yeah. But its name's Bone Grinder?"

"I decided that was too much of a mouthful and nicknamed him Fluffy," Roland said.

"You're callin' it _Fluffy_?" Myrtle's narrowed gaze thinned even more. Much like Harper, Myrtle didn't like the dreadwing much. Of course, she simply hadn't had much experience with him yet. She'd learn to grow used to the beast.

"Yeah, but that's beside the point." Roland moved towards the door, Myrtle following him. He bent his limbs and stretched before grasping the handle. "Fluffy took me to a cave he found and, low and behold, there's this _thing_ in the very centre. I have no clue what it was, but when I got close to it, it exploded and knocked me out. I had a dream of the time we met Drevon, and then I woke up surrounded by orange crystals."

"Weird..." Myrtle frowned. They headed through the empty hallway, towards the stairs. Most of the people staying here had apparently left. He'd heard Harper knock on his door a few minutes ago, which had roused him from his slumber, telling him to meet up in the lower portion of the inn. His pocket watch had struck ten-thirty.

Myrtle stopped in her tracks halfway down the hallway. Roland looked back; she seemed to be processing something new.

"...Orange crystals. Like the ones around you in Firemore?"

"Oh, so you saw them, too?" He was delighted to hear that, to have someone back him up in this. He'd been thinking about whether what he was seeing was fantasy or not. If he really was just going crazy.

"Well, yeah, I did find you when you looked, y'know, dead," she explained with a slight chuckle. "I wondered what they were. I'd never seen anythin' like 'em. Orange spirit gems don't exist, so I have no clue what they are. For them to just suddenly appear like that...?"

They started walking again. Roland shrugged.

"I have no clue, Myrtle. I have so many damn questions, yet it doesn't feel like I'm getting any closer to the answers."

"It seems important, Roly," she said, "but I would just ignore it. If I was to suggest anythin', though, maybe the crystals came from the rocks when they blew up? You ever considered it might just be a natural gemstone?"

"Crystals don't just _shrink_ , though." He reached the staircase and padded down each step. Each board hummed with age. "Unless they're spirit gems."

"Then I have no fuckin' clue."

He breathed a long soundless sigh. "This really annoys me. I hate not being able to find answers."

"I know, Roly. You obsess over issues." They reached the bottom of the staircase, emerging in the much larger bottom floor. The place looked abandoned, except for a few sitting around, lonely, at the tables. Half-full glasses were splayed about haphazardly, and the floor was wet with ginger beer. He would've liked another taste, but he'd probably had enough ginger beer to last him a lifetime now. He really didn't think he would be getting drunk ever again. He still felt groggy and tired after it.

Myrtle punched him gently in the shoulder. "But... if you hadn't obsessed over all our issues, nothin' would've ever been solved."

"Oh, please, I haven't done that much." He scanned the room for the group he'd travelled with. They sat in the same booth they had the night before, chatting about something. Tris was once again the first to meet his gaze, eagerly telling the others about his arrival.

"You've done plenty enough." Myrtle grinned. "Anyway, let's go and see your other friends. And Ashlyn."

Harper was the very first to speak up when they arrived. Strangely enough, the cheetah wore a smile, and he tipped a new broad hat he'd acquired, brown in colour. "Good morning, Roland. And to you, too... Myrtle, I believe?"

"Yeah, that's right." She stopped in front of him, standing a little straighter in the presence of a stranger. "We didn't really get a chance to speak."

"I do apologise for that," he said. "I can't help myself when drinks are involved, especially when said drink is ginger beer. And I should also apologise to you as well, Roland."

"Me?" Roland was a bit shocked to hear that. "What for?"

"I've let my anger and frustration get to me too much and I feel as though I've loosed some of that upon you." His voice was sincere. Roland had grown used to that grumpiness, and now it had already disappeared. He felt a bit guilty having to listen to this, considering he was the main cause of Harper's frustration, or at least one of the causes, all for petty shits and giggles. "I am sorry for that."

Roland smiled weakly. "It's fine. I was being a bit of a dickhead anyway."

"The blast has been taxing on us all, and I've failed to realise that," Harper said, adjusting the sword by his side. "All we can do now is remain optimistic and help each other out. There is no point in anger or moping."

Tris, who sat next to Ashlyn, spoke up. "Anyway, enough sappy stuff. Are we leaving for Warfang soon?"

"Patience, Tristana." Harper looked to Roland. "Are you coming with us still, Roland? Or are you going to stay in Midrun?"

"I..." He'd decided he wanted to head to Warfang earlier, but he was at a loss now. Did he really want to go anywhere? He didn't have to anymore. He could do whatever he wanted. The options were as limitless as the skies. "I... don't know."

"Have you given what's waiting for you here any thought?" the cheetah asked. "There are plenty of opportunities for you."

He knew that; he was just having a serious case of choice paralysis. He had so many options, but what in the name of Ignitus would he choose?

"It would depend on what you want to do, Roland," Tris said. "Do you wanna be a thief still? If so, I'd pick Warfang. It's bigger, and there's more people to steal from, and–"

"We should _not_ be encouraging him to carry on with that, Tristana," Harper hissed. "There is an orphanage here for you, Roland, though I doubt it's a good place to be. Warfang has far better facilities. But if you're sick of the city life, perhaps this would do you well."

Roland looked to Myrtle. "What do you wanna do, Myrtle?"

"Me?" She didn't look like she'd given it any thought either. She'd probably been waiting for his decision. "I... have no clue. I'm followin' you no matter what, Roly, but I guess... I guess I would like to go to Warfang. Pursue an actual education. I never got much of a chance back in the Shattered Vale."

"Really?" He couldn't suppress his surprise, or the laugh that came from his maw moments later. "What happened to Miss 'who wants to learn a bunch of boring maths and elemental techniques we already know'?

"Oh, shut up, Roland." She glared. "You wouldn't understand."

"Wait... you wanna study to become a–"

"Do _not_ say it!" Myrtle urged. The word 'musician' was hanging on the end of his tongue. Somehow, that embarrassed Myrtle greatly, but he chose to respect her wishes, else bear the wrath of the stronger earth dragoness.

"Now I'm curious." Tris giggled.

"Well, Myrtle, if you wanna go to Warfang, I'll go to Warfang, too," Roland answered. "Can't have you going off... _unprotected_." Myrtle glared shortly at him, but he ignored her irritation. "What about you, Ashlyn? What are you gonna do?"

Ashlyn, who'd been sitting in the corner of the leather seat largely ignored, staring into the translucent depths of her ring, flinched in surprise. "O-oh, me? I-I'm staying with you, Roland. Like I said."

He sneaked a look at Myrtle. She didn't seem particularly impressed, but maybe that was only her blank expression. Her feelings were indecipherable.

"Then it's decided." Harper lifted himself from the seat. He wore a thin, genuine smile. "We are travelling to Warfang together. Our larger numbers will be safer, especially when we cross through the Everlost Forest and pass Shimmervale."

"Isn't there any other way around?" Myrtle asked. Roland hadn't heard much of Myrtle's journey to Firemore from the Shattered Vale; all he'd ever heard was that she'd originated from there, and had suffered a knife wound of some kind before she left. When he'd asked, she hadn't at all wanted to speak about it. If anything, she was genuinely annoyed over the thought of it, and he could only wonder why. Maybe she was irritated at herself for going the long way around, but the again, the Dustlands were a dangerous place, seemingly covered in as many outlaws as grains of sand.

"Unless you wish to cross through the Burned Lands, or sail through serpent territory, there is no other way." Harper folded his arms, leaning against the wall of the booth. "It is much safer through the forest. There is a direct path to the other side, courtesy of the birdfolk. I assume you have some experience travelling, Myrtle?"

"Yeah, I, uh... got lost in there once," she replied. He could only imagine how stressful that would be, especially for a much younger dragoness, all by herself. It was clear to him now why she didn't want to speak of her past. "I guess that's why they call it the Everlost Forest. Lucky to find a Goldhorn in there, I was, who led me out."

"Do not fret," Harper said, voice comforting. "We won't stray from the path. As long as we're careful, we should be out of harm's way for all of our trip."

Myrtle grumbled slightly, but only nodded. Tris spoke up after a few seconds of silence.

"Well, are we going?" She stood, followed by Ashlyn, who appeared to be trying her best to keep away from everyone else.

Harper shook his head. "No, we must prepare first. We need to stock up on rations, and I need to sharpen my blade. I don't expect our journey to Warfang to be perilous, but it would be for the best if we take the necessary precautions."

"Should we separate?" Ashlyn asked. "Go and buy the things we need, come back here after?"

"I suppose that would be for the best." Harper placed a paw to his chin. "Well, you four can go in groups of two and purchase what we need. We'll meet again in an hour. I need to sort out my weapons and buy ammunition, and they don't exactly allow children in the, uh... gun stores."

Everyone nodded in unison. Roland looked around at three dragons, wondering who he'd take with him.

"Alright." Myrtle appeared to be doing the same thing as he, but her gaze missed Ashlyn. Intentionally or not, he didn't know. "Roland, who do you wanna go with?"

He shrugged, but then a devious thought came to mind and he just had to smirk. "Well, I'll go with Ashlyn." And then he got closer to Myrtle. "That'll give you some alone time with Tris."

"Oh, fuck off," she hissed back. "I am _not_ interested in her. She's... Sh-she's way too girly."

"Whatever you say," he replied much more loudly. "You wanna come with me, Ashlyn?"

"Uh, sure." Her eyes darted to meet his, but she didn't join his side. He wasn't sure why. Maybe she didn't want to be near Myrtle.

"Alright. I trust you with my daughter, Myrtle," Harper said, earning a growl from Tris.

"You say that like I can't defend myself."

"I don't mean it like that." He scowled. "I just don't want your emerging need to fool around getting in the way of our objective, and Myrtle seems more level-headed than even three copies of you."

Myrtle almost laughed at the compliment, but Tris seemed bummed to hear that. That same beaten down expression sorrowed the yellow dragoness' face, and Roland could only think that Harper was being a _little_ unfair.

"Alright, let's go." Roland motioned to the door. "We've wasted enough time as is."

"Yes, let's move." Harper took the lead, followed by the four dragons.

Roland wasn't sure what he was getting into. He had hopes the trip would go fine.

He let out a sigh as they crossed through the door, entering the busy streets of Midrun.

He wished Drevon was there to share the journey with him.

* * *

Roland weighed a pouch of copper in his paw, clenching his fist around the coins. The streets were bustling, especially for a small fishing town. Ashlyn walked the cobble path beside him, watching her wavy reflection in the narrow mole-made river flowing towards the cliff face and the beach far, far below.

"I came here a while ago, and it definitely wasn't as packed as this," she said. "A lot of these people look like they're preparing to head the same way as us."

Dragons, moles, cheetahs, even a few atlawa, the llama people of the Dragon Realms, rushed about, gathering necessary preparations for the trip ahead, like him and Ashlyn. Some, however, just seemed to be looking at the markets and houses along the street, probably wondering if Midrun would be a suitable town for them to set up in. He understood the appeal, and in fact wouldn't mind living in such a small community, but Warfang's great gates were too tantalising to resist, and the only friend from the sewers he had left wished to go there. He'd already decided and wouldn't change his mind now.

"How much do you think we'll be able to grab?" He tossed the silk pouch through the air, Ashlyn catching it with her teeth by the black band tied around it. It was a weighty thing; it'd be able to buy enough supplies, he felt. He wasn't sure if they'd be able to afford much of the rarer commodities, like red spirit gems, but if it came to that, he always had experience in the art of theft. Of course, he'd rather not in such a busy place.

"Enough to get us through the forest, at least," she explained, "and with the combined total from Myrtle and Tris, probably enough to get to Shimmervale, though we probably won't be stopping there because of their... unique laws against other creatures."

"The thought scares me, you know." He looked at a high red stall, the wooden desk lined with smoked fish from the Salamander Sea. He was tempted to buy some, but his hunger could wait a bit.

"Uh... what scares you?" she asked, passing the pouch back.

"Just that there was a complete dragon takeover there. And it happened really recently, too, only a couple decades ago. I know they're dragons like me, but it scares me to think about what might happen if it spreads. What if we become like those Lingrad dragons?"

"I hope we won't," she said. "These extremists aren't joking around, but let's hope the Dragon Realms don't become... well, the _Dragon_ Realms. Guardians have a huge political influence, and most of them are for interspecies integration, so I don't really see it happening."

"Yeah..." He eyed the stalls, almost bumping into a larger dragon in a rush to obtain supplies in the process. He couldn't help but emit a low growl at the dragon. "Anyway, we're here to grab supplies, not talk boring politics. Let's get this over with."

It took a while, pacing through multi-coloured stalls, looking through the slits between dense crowds. He noticed some were crowded around a stall selling primarily beef jerky and other preservatives, but it would take forever before he could actually purchase anything from there. Harper told him to be back in an hour; there wasn't enough time to wait. He also didn't want to be in the centre of those squabbling, barging dragons, in case he got stepped on by one of the larger ones. He'd have to find somewhere else.

He found it eventually, though, a stall with fewer people around it, tucked in an alleyway. He stopped behind the line of people, spinning his satchel around so it hung loosely off his neck and he could open it with ease. One by one the people were dismissed by the shopkeeper, a delighted mole, the reflection of a copper coin in his tiny glasses.

Roland placed his front paws atop the table so he could get a better look, Ashlyn right beside him. It took a while for the mole to notice the dragons looking over his wares, clearly used to receiving customers of a larger stature. His stall was built up from the ground to give adults a better view. Obviously, a shop made for selling travelling rations wasn't constructed for children.

"Oh, hey, lad!" the mole greeted him. "And lass! I didn't see ya there! What can I get for ya?!"

Roland was quite keen on the prime beef jerky, wrapped in a paper package; he remembered Harper saying something along the lines of jerky of any kind making a great ration for travelling, especially if emergencies surfaced and hunting didn't go as planned.

The label he read at the bottom, however, didn't satisfy his tastes. Ten copper pieces a package, and there was barely any in each. From what he'd felt, there were probably only fifty coins within the pouch, and that already was a large sum of money, especially for Harper, who'd once worked a lowly guard job. Roland had to wonder how Harper made such profit, especially with all the alcohol he apparently owned.

Perhaps he was a published writer?

"Uh, lad?"

"S-sorry!" Ashlyn said for him. He shook his mind from his thoughts, cheeks growing warm. "Uh, we'll just take... we'll take some of that one. Three of them."

She directed her claw towards the cheapest option available, which was only nearly a quarter of the price, sitting at two copper pieces each. It was, however, much larger, enough for a good few days each.

"Oh, come off it, lass, that one is _booooring_." The mole laughed. "Why not take some of my honey-glazed, smoky–"

"Yeah, we'll just take that one," Roland intervened before they could be swept up in haggling. The cheapest option was for the best; they didn't need luxury, and he assumed most of their meals would be meat and fruits cooked at the fire, anyhow. It'd be just like _The Abbatoir_ , back in Firemore. He didn't exactly enjoy the scenery, but their flame-grilled piggle was to die for.

But... maybe he could just grab a pack of that premium stuff while Ashlyn was busy dealing with the mole. He'd already handed the pouch to Ashlyn, and while she was confused, she didn't question it.

"Eh, alright then. Boring, I will say, but if that's all you kids really want..." The mole sighed, clearly disappointed, but he lifted his shoulders again in moments, the greedy smile reappearing. "That will be six copper pieces."

Ashlyn rummaged through the pouch for the amount before placing six glimmering coins upon the counter. Roland glanced behind him, gleeful to see nobody was waiting in line after them. He could enact his underhanded plan.

"Thank you, lass! Wait here for a second. I need to offer you both somethin'!"

The mole swept the coins into his paw, turning around to place them into a glass jar right behind him, shimmering with coinage. Ashlyn waited patiently for whatever this mole wanted, looking at the premium jerky, licking her lips ever so slightly. Meanwhile, Roland reached up slowly, silently dragging that small pack of prime jerky she was staring at from the counter towards him, a growing smirk on his maw. Ashlyn almost gasped, but didn't say a thing, instead choosing to uncomfortably stare at the shopkeeper opening the lid on his jar. Roland was sure he wouldn't notice; there was enough there to make it look as though nothing had been taken. He hid the pack against the wall of the counter.

"Uh, hey," Ashlyn said. Roland almost froze, thinking she was going to give him away. "Do you know where we can find spirit gems?"

Roland let out the breath he'd been holding, relieved. The mole nodded, still trying to undo the tight lid.

"Oh, y-yeah, sure!" he stammered breathlessly, his teeth clenched. "Just... head outta here and go to the right! There's a llama workin' over there who sells spirit gems and paraneda herb and... w-whatever else ya might need!" The lid came off with a satisfying pop. "Thank the Ancestors!"

"Th-th-thanks!" Ashlyn started walking off, but the mole gestured them over again.

"Eh, I said wait here! I want to sign you up for the Midrun raffle we're holding today. It's only fifteen copper pieces and you get–"

"We're fine!" Roland interrupted, turning swiftly, the package held tightly to his chest. He didn't feel like getting wrapped up in what he felt was a scam. "Thanks!"

"But–"

"Bye!" He jogged away on three paws, Ashlyn right behind him, shoving the paper-wrapped jerky into her leather satchel. The mole grumbled to himself as they left his sight.

They ran around the corner, Roland unable to help snickering. He did nervously hope the shopkeeper wouldn't notice, even if he was sure he wouldn't. Usually, he liked the attention, but this was no time for it. He just felt a need to take the risk. And, well, it had paid off!

"Roland!" Ashlyn exclaimed. "W-why did you take that!?"

He couldn't help but laugh at her expense. "Oh, he's not even gonna notice. He's too focused on his money to care."

"Y-you–"

"It's _fine,_ Ashlyn. C'mon, you wanted it, too..."

"By Ignitus..." She shook her head, but there was a smile on her maw. Even she couldn't help laughing. "I hope you don't mind me saying so, but... y-you're an idiot. A stupid, dumb idiot."

He only continued to grin. "C'mon. Let's go and get those spirit gems. I promise not to steal anything else."

"I will yell at the shopkeeper if you do."

"Oh, you better not."

"See! I knew you were going to steal more!" she said, proud of being triumphant over him. He shook his head.

"Wait, no, that's not what I..." He sighed. "Okay, fine, I was thinking about it."

Together, they followed the mole's instructions. They both pointed the store out simultaneously with enough searching, fortunately tucked away by itself like the other stall, so Roland didn't believe he would have much trouble taking anything he might need. It was strange seeing stalls like this, packed away where they couldn't be seen, but he noted there wasn't enough room on the streets for them all.

It was kind of sickening to him that all of these people were profiting off the destruction of his hometown. Surely, though, that wasn't their intention. They'd have the peoples' interests at heart, not their own. Hopefully.

Like the last one, they waited in line for their turn, but when they did end up approaching the stall, they were both at a loss for words. Sure, Roland had expected spirit gems to cost a great deal, but not _this_ much each. It was fifty copper pieces for a dull, uncut gemstone! And to think he had all the spirit gems he would ever need back in the vault...

He'd seen spirit gems when he went out flying with Fluffy, and plenty of them, too. It was clear the llama was overcharging. He'd need to concoct some other plan.

The atlawa hadn't noticed them, interested in a gemstone she'd picked up, elbow on the counter. She leaned forward in her seat.

"...Fifty?" Roland asked finally. The llama didn't even bother looking up.

"Yep. Want some?"

He frowned. "What? No? That's way too much."

"Didn't make the prices, kiddo. If you don't have the money, scram."

He shook his head. "Can't you lower it just a little bit?"

"No. Fuck off if you can't afford it."

He had to run her words through his mind several times before they finally registered. "...What?"

The llama finally looked up, slamming her hand right into the table. The crystals shook like leaves in the wind, tiny red particles shimmering in the air before swimming towards him. He felt a pinprick of energy rush through his spine.

"I don't have time for your bullshit, kid." Her fur bristled with her anger. "Buy something or get lost!"

Roland didn't even think it was worth thieving from this merchant anymore. He narrowed his eyes, his voice a murmur. "Sheesh. Learn how to run a fucking business." He looked around to find wherever Ashlyn had gone. "Come on, Ash. Let's go somewhere else."

He spun around a few times, looking towards the crowd, but couldn't find a sign of her. Where had she gone off to in such a hurry?

"Ash?" His eyes darted through sun-speckled scales and colourful fur, but she wasn't within them. It was only a moment before her voice came from right behind him, though, where the stall and its grumpy owner resided.

"C-coming!" She rushed to his side. "Let's go!"

He glanced at her in confusion before walking off. They took a few steps forward before Roland spoke up again.

"Wow, she was rude. What were you doing back there?" He cocked his head. Ashlyn was smiling, albeit sheepishly, from horn to horn. He grew even more confused when he saw a small apple pie locked between two of her toes, her satchel held in the other two. "...Where did you get that apple pie?"

"I, uh... followed your example."

It took him a few seconds, but when he caught the familiar red and green glow of spirit gems shining within, lighting the paper packages, he stared at her, mouth agape.

"You actually...?"

"Yes. I did."

Roland was shocked to see her do it by herself, and so soon after having been called an idiot by her for stealing. He wasn't able to do anything but stare in total astonishment.

Finally, after awkwardly peering into her satchel for what felt like a minute, he laughed shortly.

"You are such a hypocrite," he said. "Ancestors, Ashlyn, I didn't think you actually had it in you."

"Well, she was being a bit of a jerk, and like you said, that was way too much." She ended up shrugging, wrapping her satchel back around her neck. "While you were distracted, I swiped a few gems and herbs off the counter to her side. And I... took her uneaten apple pie."

He started walking, a new spring to his step. Ashlyn struggled to keep up with him. "You're awesome, Ashlyn. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"N-no," she stuttered. "I'm awful. But she deserved that."

"Yes, you _are_ awesome!" He flared his wings. "That was amazing! I stole ten copper's worth of beef jerky. You swiped _hundreds_ of copper right from under her nose! _And_ an apple pie!"

"K-keep your voice down!" Ashlyn whispered. He suppressed the urge to laugh. She held the pie towards him. "A-anyway, I know you like apple pie, so this is for you. You deserve it more than that jerk."

"Oh, thanks!" Roland graciously accepted Ashlyn's gift. He licked his maw, unable to pry his eyes away from the pie's sugar-freckled lid. He was tempted to rip it right out of its aluminium tray and shove it into his gob. "Let's go find somewhere to sit. We still have a while before we need to get back, and I'd like to eat this before we get going."

They weaved through large bumbling forms, eyes on the market's exit, where the crowd seemed to dissipate. Roland nearly bounced through the streets, joy flooding his veins. The optimistic dragon couldn't wait to down this pie, all thanks to Ashlyn's cunning.

They stopped around a corner, next to an old church, rippled with cracks, where a short bench lay. The path was largely abandoned; the street looked like one of the oldest, many of the stone buildings out of place compared to the largely timber-based architecture elsewhere. The bench creaked with age as Roland hopped atop, and even bent slightly when Ashlyn climbed on board as well, but it held them in place.

"That was kinda fun, I will admit," Ashlyn said. He turned his attention away from the pie to look at her.

"Yeah, it was." He grinned. "These people are making money off Firemore's destruction, and they're making a lot of it, too. I was thinking about how questionable the morals behind this were earlier. I wouldn't feel bad taking a few things for myself."

"Well, they did give everyone a bed last night, _and_ free alcohol." She shrugged. "I guess they have to make all that money back somehow. I'm betting that some of it's going back to the mayor so he can pay the inns himself."

"That'd explain why they're doing it. I thought their generosity was unfounded." Roland gazed into the pie once more, peeling some of the crust away, revealing the apple flesh within. He shoved the thin piece he'd torn away into his mouth, expressing his satisfaction through a contented sigh.

There was a weak smile on Ashlyn's maw, but it was quickly lost as she glanced in both directions. This street was totally empty. He wasn't sure what she was looking for.

"Roland, I... have a question I've been meaning to ask you, since you came to the _Old Hag_."

"Yeah?" He took another bite, mouth full of fruity heaven. "What is it?"

"I..." She clenched her teeth. "Did you, uh... find Drevon? I thought he would be with you. I thought I heard him in that building, but I could be wrong."

He lowered the apple pie until it touched the seat, swallowing whatever food he had in his maw. Just the mention of Drevon's name was enough for a pit to settle in his stomach.

"Yeah," he said. "I did. He..."

Ashlyn nodded. "Sorry, I didn't mean to–"

"N-no, it's fine." He was quick to be reassuring. "When I saw him, he was very different. His scales were all cracked, he was missing his horns, and there was all this dark aether floating around him. It was scary, both for me and for him. I think I... I might've said the wrong things to him, and he ran off after knocking me and Myrtle out. He basically said he was going to end his life."

Ashlyn's mouth was parted and her eyes were busy studying the cracks in between the cobble. She didn't look up.

"Roland, I... don't know what to say."

He dropped the apple pie on the bench. His hunger had disappeared. "You don't have to say anything. Don't feel bad. It's not really your fault."

"I don't understand, Roland."

Roland knew exactly what she was getting at once again. To him, his reasoning was clear, but she was far too pessimistic to comprehend it.

"I'm an optimist, Ashlyn. You probably know that. I try to see the best in people." He looked at her, eyes confident. Hers merely swayed towards his. "I know you're not bad. You have my best interests at heart. You want everyone to be happy, but you've been denied that by Aurus."

He sighed after a while of silence. She couldn't find the words.

"Please don't feel bad, Ash," he said. "I'm already trying to deal with all of this. I just wanna forget about it and move on. Being like this isn't really helping. It's upsetting for you and it's upsetting for me."

"I... just can't help myself..." Ashlyn took a long look at the sky before turning towards him. She climbed off the seat. "Let's go back. I don't want to think about it either, Roland."

"You will if you can't accept the fact that you're not the one I'm mad it." He jumped off the seat, leaving the pie on its lonesome, forgotten. Ashlyn shook her head.

"I _know_ you're not mad at me," she told him. "That's what I have a problem with. You _should_ be mad at me. And I don't understand why you aren't."

"Well, it's not your fau–"

"Y-you've _told_ me that." She drew in a breath, quivering slightly like her scales. "B-but... you don't believe that."

His heart thumped at the words. "W-what? No, I–"

" _'I'm no different from_ _you_ ,' you were about to say, when we were sitting under the stars before the death hounds came. You don't have to lie to me, Roland. I... c-completely understand. If you don't want me around, please just say so..."

"That's not what I–"

"Myrtle doesn't want me around, obviously." She turned around. "Maybe I should just go."

"Ashlyn, stop." He walked up beside her, his wing brushing against her back. Gently, he placed the tip on one of her wings. "That was a mistake. That's not what I meant to say at all. I'm really sorry about that. It was stupid of me to say it."

Roland didn't know if she believed it. She took all these harsh things to mind, kept them churning in her already beaten heart. He guessed she was used to it. All he could really tell her was that he hadn't meant to be harmful at all. He needed to watch his words in the future. He'd make sure of it.

"And regarding Myrtle," he continued, "she needs some time. She's just a little slow, Ash. Maybe start a conversation with her about something – I'm sure she'll come around. I think awkwardly standing around and glancing at each other is just going to make things worse."

Ashlyn looked up at him, but she quickly turned away again after meeting his confident eyes.

"Ashlyn..." He sighed. "Look at me."

Once more, she turned, and this time she didn't peer anywhere else. He revealed the hurt beneath his confident facade.

"If you wanna leave and go off by yourself, I won't stop you," he said. "That's up to you. But... I'd really like you to come. At least try. You'll feel a lot better if you talk to Myrtle and let all this stuff about me hating you go. Neither of us are in a good place right now, but we'll be a lot happier if we help each other along and let go of the past, no matter how hard it is. I want you to know that I think you're a good person at heart. You just have to prove yourself."

Ashlyn opened her mouth. "D-do you think Myrtle would...?"

"Like I said." He smiled. "It'll take some time. But I bet she'll come around. She's never been difficult to please."

It took more than a few moments, but eventually, he could see her joy, however faint it was.

"Th-thanks, Roland. It means a lot."

"There's no need," Roland replied. He started walking, going back the way they'd come. "C'mon. Let's get back. We don't have anything else to do, and Harper's probably done shopping for ammo."

"Okay." She looked towards the ground for a few seconds before she lifted her head higher. He was much happier to see that. Dejection wasn't a good look on her, and it was a shame he had to see that so often. But that warm, confident smile suited her. Underneath that sadness was a fun-loving, kind dragoness, and he was glad to see that come out again.

She looked pretty with a smile.

* * *

"Alright... That should be everything. Plenty of spirit gems and jerky."

Harper reached out with his open paw, almost touching the bottom of Roland's chin. He shifted uncomfortably, unknowing to Harper's desires. The cheetah sensed his confusion.

"I would like my copper back, Roland."

"O-oh, yeah!" He placed the silk satchel back in his paw, stepping back and hitting the wall of the _Old Hag_ behind him with his dull tail blade. He cringed at his stupidity. "Sorry about that."

"And hear I thought you were stealing _my_ money," the cheetah laughed softly. "Almost all of it seems to be inside here. It's as if you didn't spend a single coin."

Ashlyn looked up at him, and couldn't help looking a little guilty, even if what she'd done was necessary. "Uh, well..."

Harper blinked a few times. "...What are you implying?"

"We, uh..." Roland adopted the most innocent expression he could. His efforts were to no avail. "We had to take a few shortcuts..."

Harper was immediately disappointed, gaze stern. "Did you _seriously_ steal all of these supplies?"

"We bought the jerky!" she admitted. "It's just that the gems were way too overpriced. They were fifty coins a crystal, and the paraneda herb wasn't much better. The atlawa there was a bit of a jerk."

"It is wrong to steal, Ashlyn," Harper scolded. "You should know better. I thought you learned that when I told you earlier."

Ashlyn, surprisingly, wasn't saddened by the lecture. Instead, she remained poised. "Would _you_ pay fifty copper for spirit gems?"

"No, because I cannot use them." Harper folded his arms. Ashlyn was defeated by this statement, and Roland couldn't help but feel a little sorry for her. Eventually, though, the cat let out a lengthy sigh. "Well, I suppose it was necessary, and there is plenty of paraneda herb for myself and you four if we are in an emergency. As long as nobody caught you and you don't end up on a list. I'm not sure how well Midrun treats its prisoners."

"It should be fine." Roland held his little paper package of prime beef jerky in front of him, shaking it gently. He couldn't wait to open up his spoils. "That mole was staring way too hard at the money he'd made to care."

"I guess I shouldn't complain anyway," Harper said, placing his paw on something to his side. "I had to do some... shady things to get my paws on one of these."

He drew a long-muzzled pistol from a holster attached to his belt, resting beside his pointed dagger. Its barrel was red and hot, ready to fire an elementally charged bullet at a moment's notice. Its cylinder glowed with fiery ammunition, six shots in their respective chambers. It was coated in a slick silver and an intricate design was carved into the black grip, wavy lines creating the form of a phoenix. It reminded Roland of Firemore's crest.

"This is an FP-6," the cheetah stated, his tone one of pride. In a swift motion, the cheetah spun it around on a claw before shoving it back into the leather holster it came from. "It stands for 'fire power; six rounds.' Its light, durable, and it gets the job done. It could put a hole through even the toughest armour."

Roland couldn't help but stare in a little awe. With the intricate design and that rare explosive tip that many an E.F. lacked, it seemed far too expensive for a guard to have his mitts on. If anything, it probably felt more wieldy than the long, obtuse rifle sitting on his back amongst all the other items tucked into the large rucksack.

"Looks dangerous," Ashlyn observed. Harper nodded.

"Yes, as dangerous as a master of the comet dash. I would tell a child like you not to put your hands on it, but you already have a deadly weapon in the form of your magic. We other creatures need these to keep up. Without them, I feel as though we would be powerless compared to your kind."

"Not that it matters," Tristana's voice came forth, stopping at Harper's side. Myrtle was with her, and Roland greeted her with a wave. She waved back and turned away. Roland couldn't help but notice she was trying to ignore Ashlyn. The ice dragoness didn't notice, staring at her paws. "It's not like you're going to be killing any dragons."

"I would not be afraid to do so if one stood in my way, Tristana."

Roland shivered at the thought. Hopefully bandits didn't exist out in these wilds. Anyone and everyone could be a threat. They'd need to make sure they were safe.

But Roland had hopes Harper wouldn't even need to use the firearm. Maybe if he was shooting a meal for them to eat at night, but not on anybody like them.

Harper looked into the distance, through the bodies covering the streets, ready to get moving towards the dragon city. The sun sat high in the middle of the sky, reflected in the waters running out towards the coast. Several fisher moles and cheetahs were preparing for a fishing trip, probably to catch fish and sell them at the markets later on.

"Well... l-let's hope you don't need to," Tris finally responded, breaking the silence between them.

"Yes. Let us hope." Harper spun to the rest of the dragons, placing his paws on his hips. He stretched with a low growl. "Anyhow... Are you all ready to leave? I say we get moving and make as much distance as we can. The less time we need to spend travelling, the better. Hopefully by tomorrow we'll reach the outskirts of the Everlost Forest."

"I'm ready," Myrtle told him. "I've got all the things we might need. Emergency rations, and some medical supplies just in case. Sorry, we spent all of your money."

"Yes, good work. And don't worry about it."

"Well, let's go, I guess." Roland looked to Harper, who had a claw pointed in the direction they were going to take.

"Alright. We're heading southeast." He started moving, and the four dragons were quick to follow his lead.

They exited the town of Midrun in good time, thankfully skipping the more crowded markets in favour of a thinner street that ended on the side of a short slope stretching into the thick grass of the wilds before them. Roland had to squint, but he soon remembered this place. He knew of that rounded depression in the ground.

The abandoned house lay only a hundred metres to his right. It left his gaze swiftly, his eyes falling to bristling blades of grass.

He'd have to hope that Drevon hadn't gone through with what he planned, but there was no running after him now to find out. All he could do was try to move on. Just like he always had.

He wanted to forget. Desperately so. But he knew he never would.

Within ten minutes, he couldn't see the abandoned home anymore. Left to rot, alone, like the memory of his best friend.


	18. Mana Theory

Mana Theory

Their journey began silently. Roland could sense unease, but for the most part, all he felt was peace.

And, of course, the cold.

Green stretched ever onward, frill-like grass brushing against his legs. Light, chilly rain fell, each drop hitting his scales sending shivers through his body. He had to readjust his scarf, still thankful for the final gift Seth had provided for him. Dragons didn't usually wear clothing, but he was willing to consider the thought of putting on a robe. The Dragon Realms did snow on occasion, but usually towards the southern end of the continent, not here. Maybe it was all the ice magic being expended overseas in Lingrad, where the Assembly's attempts to freeze over the world were happening.

He shook and shivered. He would've liked to have fire to keep himself warm, or scales like Ashlyn's, capable of repelling cold.

"You're wearing a scarf, and yet you're shivering?" Tris said, the closest to him. Ashlyn and Myrtle were walking a little further ahead, both in thought.

"Just a bit." He nodded. "I'm surprised you're not."

"Hmm... Oh, I keep forgetting. You don't have magic." Her revelation perplexed him.

"How does that have to do with me being cold?" he asked. "I mean, Ashlyn already repels the cold, but what about you and Myrtle?"

Tris grinned. "Well, I've given your problem some thought. You've told me you don't feel anything down there, which makes me think you might not have the magical 'stomach' we dragons have."

"Magical... stomach?" He'd never heard of this before. He had pondered before where all that magic went after dragons consumed spirit gems.

"It's not exactly a stomach," she explained, "It's called the _potenthalus_. It's like a bag inside our bodies. When we consume spirit gems, it gets filled up with invisible mana, like gas. If you have enough, you can feel it inside you, and it's a pretty warming sensation. Maybe you don't have one of those?"

"But I can consume spirit gems," he told her. "Even the green ones, which are specifically for recharging magical energy. If I don't have a magical stomach, then where does all that mana go?"

Tris placed a claw to her lip. "The gems are attracted to draconic elemental signatures, and you obviously have one of those. Every single dragon does. You have mana in your veins – everyone does – so that's probably why you can absorb them. Maybe you _do_ have that bag, but you have some issue down there? I've heard the mana can get blocked off, or even straight up disappears or evaporates... Hey, this might be a personal question, but have you ever taken so many gems you get high?"

"Oh, yeah, once or twice." Roland wasn't fond of the memories. He could understand why people enjoyed using them for recreational purposes, but he wouldn't ever try it again. "I had to consume a _lot_ to feel anything, though. And it definitely didn't last very long. I could barely even feel the mana, and I certainly don't feel anything now."

"When the mana in the potenthalus has nowhere to stay, it goes right to your head." Tris stopped for a moment and reached around for her satchel before pulling out a small notepad she was keeping with her. Dotted along the pages were notes and scribbles, all about magic and spirit gems. A lot of the notes seemed to be on her own electric magic, but he thought he saw his name jotted in there somewhere and he could only wonder why. Maybe it was her obsessing over the subject. She seemed like a dedicated academy student. He'd ask her why his name was there in a second.

"It makes you feel light-headed," she read from her notepad, "and you'll see all sorts of colours if you go far enough. Eventually, it all gets expelled through your breath and you'll be back to normal." She looked up from the small slip of paper. "Usually it takes a long time for it to go away, but you said it didn't last long?"

"No, not very." He shrugged. "Guess I just have problems or something."

"I've heard of mana leaks, but even then, those people can still _use_ their magic." She looked through her notes, flicking over a page. "I've never heard of anything so bad that the mana just can't be used because it drains too quickly. The only reason I can think of is if you've your potenthalus has been punctured by something, but I doubt that's the case because nobody's managed to live after being stabbed there because spirit gems don't work without mana... This is so confusing."

He looked over her shoulder and spotted his name mentioned again, but he couldn't quite read the hasty scribbles in her moving paw. "Hey, uh... Tris?"

"Yeah?"

"Why is my name in your notepad?"

"O-oh, um..." She shoved the notepad deep into the confines of her satchel, then scratched the area between her ivory horns. "I... Sorry, I've just been thinking about how you lack an element. I didn't mean to make you concerned or anything. I was thinking about what might be wrong in the spare time I had between school, tutoring, cleaning the house, and working the forge. I was reading up on elemental illnesses late at night."

Roland wondered if the sorrow she'd had when that strange vision came to him was the cause of her endeavours. He didn't want to believe that. He was starting to think he was to blame for practically everything happening.

"Trust me, you don't have to figure it out," he reassured her. "I don't mind not having an element. Sure, I'm different, but it's normal enough to me. What would I even do with one?"

"Are you serious?!" The loud tone of her voice shocked Roland. He noticed the other three in front turn their heads simultaneously. "S-sorry!" she yelled to them. "Nothing's wrong!"

She waited until they turned away before speaking again. "I'm surprised you say that, Roland. I hate to sound obnoxious, but there's so much you can do! And I want you to be able to experience that."

"What could I do?" he questioned. He looked ahead to find they were crossing a bridge, and he nearly tripped on the steps leading up to it.

"My skills would differ from yours." She started looking over the side of the bridge, into the waters just below them, then to the high arches on either side, stretching like a colourless rainbow to the other end, a few metres ahead. "Based on your scale colour, I'd think you're either a fire dragon or an earth dragon, but the latter would be really rare for someone with red scales. There is so much you can do with fire. Aren't you able to think of all the possibilities?"

He sighed. "I _have_ thought about them, but I don't really care. I could... light a fire, I guess. That'd save me from having to click stones together."

She could only laugh at his non-existent ideas. "C'mon, there's so much more to being a dragon than just _lighting a fire_. I can zap people, go extremely fast, create light sources, charge generators... That's about as much as other people know, but the list goes on and on! What do you think you could do?"

"Plenty of things, I'm sure," he replied nonchalantly. "But I really don't care about any of them. I'm fine how I am. Having an element now would just be weird."

She was dissatisfied with the answer, but she didn't play with the idea any longer. "Okay. I just think it would be cool. We'd have nearly every type of dragon here. We'd all make up for each other's weaknesses with our own strengths, even though you're not all trained like I am."

They stepped off the bridge crossing over a section of the Faymaw. Dirt crunched beneath Roland's feet as they hit a narrow dirt path, curling slightly to his left, veering past the ocean. Trees were beginning to grow more plentiful, but many a stump lay in the area, axed for the housing in Midrun.

"Anyway, speaking of your friends," Tris continued, "Myrtle was really nice. I'm glad you sent her with me so we could talk a bit. I'm surprised how funny she is. I thought she was really awkward around strangers, but once we got a conversation going, she was so cool."

He had to laugh at that. "Yeah, I was hoping you two would get along."

"Was there any other reason you sent her with me, though?" She tilted her head, her voice lower than earlier. Clearly, she wasn't oblivious to how tense it was between Myrtle and Ashlyn. Tris caught him staring ahead and opened her mouth again. "Do they... dislike each other?"

"...I don't know if Ashlyn would be okay with me telling you. Sorry."

"No, no, it's okay," she reassured. "It's personal. That's fine."

"Why don't you tell me about your friends?" As soon as it left his mouth, he thought his suggestion would be met with sadness, and he regretted it, but she shrugged instead.

"Oh, they're... fine. They were friends, I guess. They were all I really had. I was a little worried they hadn't made it, but I heard from some people in Midrun that dragons like them were passing through." Pleasantly surprised, Roland listened on. "Maybe we'll see them in the Everlost Forest. By the way, thanks for making me feel better."

"Huh? I didn't do anything."

"I was... kind of down back in that old hut we stayed in that one night," she said. "But your joking around put me in a good mood."

"Well, it's understandable you were down. You felt like you'd lost your friends and everything. We all have."

"It... wasn't really that," she said. "I-I mean, yeah, I was upset over that, but it was more just..." She looked ahead, to make sure the others weren't listening, but they were much farther ahead, especially the cheetah. "It was just Harper being Harper. You've... noticed how he talks down to me all the time, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I have. He kind of sounds like a jerk sometimes if I'm being honest."

"W-well, he's... he's not a _jerk_ , but I think he has a high opinion of himself. He doesn't want to be around when I make jokes or do anything dumb. It's... kind of like he doesn't want to be associated with me at all sometimes. And he's been doing it a lot more recently."

"He's being unfair," Roland told her. "I know that much. He treats everybody differently to you. I don't think he has a super high opinion of me, but he doesn't constantly wear me down like he does with you."

"He loves me, I know that." She was certain in that opinion. Roland couldn't confirm whether he thought the same as her about it all. This didn't sound much like love to him. "He was the one who convinced me to join all those tutoring lessons. I love them. He wants to see me do my best. But, like... he only wants to see me do my best so he can have a better image in the face of others. He always hung around more sophisticated people. They praised me for my skill, but they always praised him for raising 'such a good girl.' They gave him more opportunities. It always felt like I was there to stroke his own ego."

"And when he got home from work," she continued after pausing for a moment, Roland eyeing her with worry, "he wouldn't help me with any of the housework. He was busy, but... I was also really busy when it wasn't the end of the week. There were so many days he had off as well, though, because the guard was huge at the time, and all the time I'd just come home to him drinking or passed out on the lounge. I'd have to put him to bed and then do all the cleaning and dishes and whatever else until it was time to go to sleep; he told me once that that was all I was around for, and even though it was a joke, I still sort of believed it. Then I'd practice magic all night and wouldn't get any sleep. I do enjoy studying magic, but... all this just hasn't been optimal. Sometimes, he would..."

She let out a low sigh and stopped those thoughts there. He wondered what she'd been about to say. "I wish he'd just see me as an actual person rather than... some kind of inanimate object. I feel like a punching bag. He never treated Pride the way he treats me. I didn't like Pride. He wasn't nice to me, but I was also jealous of him... Ugh, I don't know... maybe it's because I'm adopted? It's all just been starting to get on my nerves. I feel lost. I don't know what to do."

"I see..." Roland nodded. Tris just shrugged. "I... thought you had it pretty good, but it sounds like you've had it rough. I can understand that."

"I'm sure you can." The smile that'd wavered on her muzzle grew once more, but it remained weak. "Sorry about... forcing you through that. I've only known you for a few days and here I am, getting emotional. The words kind of just came out. I... feel like I'm complaining about nothing and I'm being overly sensitive, though..."

"Nah, it's okay," he said. "I'm here to listen. If it's bothering you this much, I can try to stand up for you. You don't deserve any of what's happening, especially not now. This is already hard enough for us all."

"I'd be thankful, but... there's no need. It's fine." She patted him on the back with a wing before pointing forward with a claw. "Anyway, we've fallen behind. I think we should catch up. How's about we make it less awkward between everyone? I'd like to think we're both pretty good at talking."

He chuckled before getting a move on, padding quickly across the dirt and into the grass, kicking up fluffy white dandelions.

* * *

"You have to be _really_ quiet," Tris murmured, kneeling inside the thick grass. Roland could barely see her body through yellowy blades. "You don't wanna scare it off."

He nodded, gaze fixed on the wild piggle before him, a small grey quadruped covered in thin fur. Its ears were fixed upwards, now ignoring the bush it'd been munching on in favour of the voice it'd obviously heard.

"I think _you_ need to be quiet," he whispered, nearly chuckling. Unfortunately, the piggle squealed, a high shriek not too dissimilar to that of Fluffy, only it wasn't deafening and didn't create pandemonium. It ran off at speeds he didn't expect, faster than he could ever be. He cursed under his breath.

"Oh, darn it!" she hissed.

After a short discussion with Harper and the others, it was decided he and Tris would be the ones going hunting – Harper had even suggested that there was no time like now to start learning how. Roland had decided to go because he was actually excited by the prospect, learning something new that would probably prove invaluable, despite his muscles throbbing from the five hours they'd spent walking.

Unfortunately, this wasn't going very well for either of them.

"I've never had to deal with wild piggle before." Tris sighed, scratching her head. "I can do this! I know Harper said not to use my magic just in case I burn it, but I'll have to rush at it with my magic next time. I... just wish we'd gone with a professional. Like Myrtle."

"Myrtle?" he asked, louder. "She's never told me she's a master. She didn't sound like she wanted to do it when we were back there."

Tris looked over the high grass in search of more prey. "That's what she said. She did tell me she was really good at it. Although... maybe she _was_ just trying to impress me."

"Wow, and I thought she was modest," he laughed. "Anyway, we should keep looking. The sun's starting to set and we still haven't found anything. It's been almost an hour."

"It _has_!?" she exclaimed, eyes wide. "Crap! What's Harper going to say?"

"Don't mind him." Roland crouched in the grass once more, taking silent steps forward. "Let's go."

Roland knew he was clumsy, but he was awfully quiet when he sneaked about. He knew how to suppress that noise. He could've easily mistaken his own movement for the grass swaying and rustling in the light breeze. Tris, however, seemed to make a lot more noise than him. Clearly, she was no master. They'd had several piggles already run off before Tris could even get close to one, all because she alerted them.

"You sorta make a lot of noise when you move around. Piggles have very sensitive ears." He knew that bit of information from the time he'd spent in _The Abattoir._ "They can probably hear you breathing. Try to watch where you're walking as well."

"I thought I was the one teaching you?"

He chuckled. "Guess not."

"Well, if you're so sure of yourself," she said, pouting, "why don't you go ahead? I'll stay back and let you work your magic."

"Don't have any, but sure." He grinned. "Just don't ruin my flow."

"Your flow... What the heck is that supposed to–"

He shushed her. Another piggle sat right ahead through the grass, studying its stubby little legs. Its pointy ears shot skyward, already having heard them speak.

He didn't move a muscle. The piggle's beady eyes darted about, searching for the threat. He hoped his unpolished, mucky scales would conceal him from the view and the red wouldn't stand out.

Thankfully, it went back to chomping on the bush in its mouth. He didn't release the breath held in his throat, though. Quietly, he lowered himself to the ground, in a position to pounce upon the piggle and make it submit. Of course, he'd never done this before, he was just doing what he felt was right, allowing his own instinct to take over. He might've been a civilised dragon, but some things did feel natural to do.

He clenched his paw, his choice of weapon a claw. He breathed softly through his nose, eyes narrowing in concentration.

He stayed put for one more second, and then leaped forwards, tackling the piggle with him. It screamed and squealed in his ears, kicking and trying to bite, but he had the weaker animal secured. He quickly raised a paw, claws glinting in the sunlight before pressing them into the piggle's neck.

It stopped squirming. He felt blood gush over his claws. He felt... sick.

"Wow, Roland. I'm impressed!"

Tris ran up to him. He couldn't stop looking at the dead carcass in his paws. He saw Garv down there, his pleas for death filling his mind. _Do not hesitate_. Why did this feel wrong?

"Are you okay? You're shaking."

"I-I'm fine." He was loud, serious, realising he was quivering. He'd never killed an animal before. Garv had wanted it. This animal didn't...

"...It's alright." She smiled weakly. "I had a hard time killing my first animal, too, but they _are_ just animals and there's tons of them around. You've probably eaten plenty of them before. It's essentially just the same thing, except you have to do the work yourself. Don't think of them as living creatures; think of them as food. Really tasty food."

She was right. He was worrying over this too much. He'd basically already killed so many before, only he didn't have to do the dirty work. One less piggle in the world wasn't going to harm anything.

This was only natural. He was glad it wasn't another dragon.

"I'm annoyed, you know," Tris said. Her grin had grown. "I wanted a chance to show off what I could do with my magic. I didn't want you to do it."

Roland looked down at his bloodied paw and took a quick lick. He was actually quite surprised by the taste, and if he hadn't understood why the feral dragons enjoyed drinking blood before, he certainly did now. There was a faint taste of iron in his mouth, but it also tasted of the piggle itself. He could definitely grow used to doing this if the reward was this flavourful.

The red dragon soon looked up, watching the grass rustle with movement. He saw a furred grey being within.

"Well, maybe you _will_ have a chance to show me." He pointed ahead, his tone encouraging. "I'm curious as to what you can actually do."

Usually, he didn't have much of an interest in magic, but Tris had made it feel like something he _needed_ to experience. As if it were impossible to live without. And what better way to learn what such a thing could do than from the self-proclaimed master herself?

Of course, he also would've found it funny if she failed.

"Watch this." She wet her lips, crouching down. Sparks trailed along her cunning smile. One moment she was hunkering down, the next she released an arcing missile that homed in on the target ahead. The electric arc struck true, launching the piggle into the air. Its squealing could barely be heard over the loud zap and the sparks swallowing its form.

Then, Tris rushed forwards, jumping only to slam the piggle into the ground with a charge. She buried a horn into its body, and Roland could see the blood squirt, flecking her face.

He felt a little sick watching her go overboard on it, but he had to admit that her attacks were impressive. He'd never seen anything like it. He could only wonder what the consequences of this magic would be if dragons actually used it in the duels they partook in for sport. Thankfully, those duels were _heavily_ regulated.

He wondered why and how Tris was studying techniques that were designed to kill anyway. He knew classes existed for such a thing, but these abilities would only ever be taught and learned by somebody who had a real intent to kill. Or, of course, protect.

Tris raised her head and wiped the red from her face before licking her paw, rather proud of what she'd accomplished. She lifted the body with both front paws and threw it up before it landed on on her back, the hole in the piggle's chest holding tightly onto one of the many spines lining her back. Shockingly, she didn't seem to mind getting her scales all bloody, red already trailing down her once gleaming yellow scales; he didn't take her for somebody willing to get her paws dirty, not like him.

"Do what I do," she told him. Roland lifted the corpse in front of him, a little disgusted, before tossing it onto his back. It took a couple attempts to get it to hold, but it eventually landed in a place it would remain tight. It wasn't like he could carry the thing in two paws and walk on his hind legs; that would look and feel uncanny.

Tris walked up beside him, a tiny smile on her maw. Roland looked at his feet.

"I could've done a lot more," she said. "But I don't want to ruin the food... Harper's probably going to get mad at me for burning it."

The scent of singed hair sat beneath Roland's nose. It smelt far worse than he thought it would, and almost ruined his appetite.

"Let's get back." Roland started walking faster. "I want nothing more than to get rid of that smell."

"You know," Tris began, tilting her head, "you seemed a little shocked when I killed that piggle. Was it the magic?"

"Just a bit, yeah." He shrugged. "Um... why do you know all this magic? What made you want to learn? That stuff looked really deadly."

"I've been asked that question a lot." She nodded in understanding. "Well, the electric Guardian in Firemore was getting old. She decided she was retiring soon, but before she did, she needed a student to take over for her. I was about twelve at the time that was announced – I'd just gotten my element a few months before, right on my twelfth birthday – and while auditions weren't going to open up for a long while yet, I decided I wanted to study electricity and master all it had to offer. I wanted to become the next Guardian."

"So you had to study all these deadly abilities, too?" Roland had never seen a Guardian use dangerous elemental magic before. Elements were important to all dragons, according to everybody he'd spoken to about the subject, but never were they used in such a way that they could hurt or kill, unless there was an intent to do just that. It gave some dragons meaning; earth dragons tended to work with moles in construction and engineering, and electric dragons made a good alternative source of power to spirit gems if the crystal farms were having a bad year. "Why would you ever need to use those?"

"Guardianship requires a strong understanding of the element in question," she answered. "Guardians are political figures, but they're also war generals if the time calls for it. And in that case, you... kind of need to know how to kill things, Roland."

"Plus, that lightning arc wasn't all that deadly," she continued. "It stuns, but it doesn't kill. If I gave that piggle a moment, it'd run away as if nothing ever happened to it, only its hair singed slightly. The most basic of electricity, the stuff most people only know, is almost incapable of killing. It takes some serious power to shoot what is practically lightning from your mouth. And while I have learned how to do that, I wouldn't _ever_ use it against anyone unless the situation called for it. I don't want to hurt anyone; all of this is just a requirement for becoming a Guardian."

"Well, I'm glad to know you won't kill me!" He grinned. Tris laughed for a short while before her eyes suddenly went serious.

"I just hope I don't get mad at someone and try to zap them. Magic can be emotionally charged. It's where the name 'fury' comes from." She sighed. "With what I can do, I could very easily hurt someone. Harper was the one who suggested I try to become a Guardian and learn all this dangerous stuff, and I was fine with that, but when I really did hurt somebody once, I nearly reconsidered what I was doing."

"Who?" Roland asked, but Tris shook her head. He was joking when he said he was glad she wouldn't kill him, but she definitely had the capacity to. That was worrying in itself.

But any weapon could hurt and kill. Earth magic was deadly, fire was deadly, swords were deadly, guns were deadly... The list went on and on. His _claws_ , though blunted by wear and disregard, were deadly. Everyone was constantly living around weapons. But people kept the peace. Nobody wanted to get hurt. Laws were created under the Treaty of the Great Twelve so people wouldn't resort to harming each other.

And Tris sure as hell didn't seem like she wanted to hurt him.

"It doesn't matter anymore. They came out of it fine." She smiled despite herself. "Anyway, magic is dangerous, yes, if it's used in the wrong paws. I'd never use it against someone intentionally unless I had to. Of course, it's not like any of this matters anymore, because... Firemore blew up."

"Well, I dunno if the Guardians in Warfang are gonna die soon." He placed a paw to his muzzle, tapping his chin. "Maybe... you could become a teacher?"

"I like that idea, but I'm talking about all the dangerous stuff. Barely anybody needs that kind of education."

"No, I mean like the tutor you had," he explained. "When you're older, you could teach a class of children or something. Self-defence, maybe?"

"Maybe..." She raised her shoulders. "I'll have to think about it. We'll get to Warfang first and then I'll start thinking about my options. I still have another two hundred and fifty years left in me. I'm more focused on everything that's happened and... Harper at the moment."

"Alright... Anyway, we shouldn't be far from the others now." As soon as he made it up the top of the slope they were climbing, he could see his other companions sitting down and waiting in the distance for dinner to walk itself to them.

"Wanna race me?" She smirked, knowing full well what happened last time. Roland gave her a distrusting glare.

"Sure, but no elements. Only running."

"Fine by me." She crouched low to the ground. "Count us down."

"Alright." He got into position, flexing his paws. "Three, two–"

"Go!" She sprinted off, kicking loose grass right into Roland's mouth. He spat and coughed.

"Hey!" He dashed after her, making sure the piggle wouldn't fall off his back. She was already far ahead, but he could catch up. "You're more cunning than me, and I'm a thief!"

She wasn't beating him this time.

* * *

The cheetah turned two piggle carcasses on a spit over a crackling fire. Fat simmered and popped on the open flame. Little blue bugs hovered about, lighting Harper's creased brow. Tris sat nearby, waiting for something. At first he thought her thoughts were on the food, but that worried look, and the fact she hadn't received a lecture, yet put Roland at unease.

Ashlyn and Myrtle were nearby, on opposing sides of the fire, staring into the flames. Myrtle's teeth were clenched, her eyes fixed on the dancing flame. The blue dragoness lay on her stomach, watching the bugs flittering and dancing, playing about the meat. Roland could only guess what they were thinking about. He was still waiting for Ashlyn to talk to Myrtle, like he'd suggested to her.

They couldn't keep waiting. He could barely deal with this growing tensity. It would be best if they solved their issues early.

He tried to distract himself with the scent of charred, grilled piggle flesh. His stomach groaned at the sensation; he couldn't wait to rip off a leg or two.

He leaned, falling to his back. Dry leaves crunched beneath him, some of the last as winter arrived. The tree high above was barren, pointed and sharp, like daggers. There were birds up there, small creatures bouncing about the twigs.

There came a sound like wind rushing, and the twigs snapped. Suddenly, all the birds were gone. Roland sat up with a jolt, looking about, wondering if he'd imagined it. Nobody noticed, occupied mostly by thoughts.

Then, there was a loud stomp that broke everyone's concentration. All eyes darted to Roland, and he knew instantly there was a monster behind him.

But he didn't even have to look to know it was Fluffy. He'd become accustomed to that smell. He'd forgotten the dreadwing existed for a while, engaged in other things.

"Hey, Fluffy." Roland looked up into the dreadwing's unusually soft yellow eyes, reaching up with a paw to rub at the dreadwing's neck. Fluffy leaned in.

"I-I swear to the Ancestors, Roland." Harper shivered. It wasn't the cold doing that, obviously. There was a fire. "If that damn thing materialises like that again..."

"He's _fine_ ," Roland said. "Just ignore him if you don't like him."

"A bit hard to ignore your giant pet dog, Roly." Myrtle looked away, going back to staring into the fire. She grabbed a stick from a bundle beside the campfire and poked at it, stoking the flames. "I feel like it's gonna eat me if I ain't starin' at it. Don't want anything to do with it."

"Finally! Somebody who is as sane as I am." Harper shook his head, going back to turning the meat on the spit.

"Aww, come on, Fluffy isn't _that_ bad." Tris laughed. The cheetah looked down at her, rolling his eyes, before going back to his task. "I'm sure Fluffy was just mistaken at first. He seems friendly. You're friendly, aren't you, Fluffy?"

The dreadwing cooed. Harper just kept on shaking his head.

Tris smiled. "He's kind of cute once you get used to the... slobbery, bite-y, monster-y feeling."

"You should _not_ be getting attached to that _monster_ ," Harper growled. "It would already be dead if Roland didn't have a need to keep it."

"Hey, look, I'm just really curious." Roland kept on scratching the skin beneath Fluffy's woolly coat. As it started getting colder, he'd noticed more and more that the hair was getting thicker and tougher. "I wanna know why Fluffy decided I was his friend. I'm pretty sure he was looking specifically for _me_. Why am I so special?"

"Special? You're unlucky." Myrtle, despite her wavering nerves and irritation over the beast, had to chuckle. "I wouldn't want Fluffy anywhere near me. It smells bad. I'm glad this piggle is able to drown out that fuckin' stench."

At the very least, Roland could agree with that. He was used to living in dirty, horrible conditions, but this was a little too much for even him to bear.

The next thirty minutes went by in a flash. He almost nodded off after consuming his share of piggle, his mind eager for sleep. His sleep schedule was out of control. He managed to hold on for a little longer, though. Long enough to watch Ashlyn beckon Myrtle over.

Harper looked up from his pistol, in which he'd been lazily spinning the cylinder. "Where are the two of you off to? It is late."

"Uh..." Ashlyn shuffled in place. Myrtle's face was completely blank, but Roland could tell she was hesitant to go anywhere with the blue dragoness. Surely Myrtle knew they needed to speak about what had happened earlier, though. "I-I just need to tell her something in private. We'll be back soon."

"...Alright." Harper eyed the two suspiciously before returning his gaze to the gun. "Don't wander far. These wilds are dangerous, especially at night."

Ashlyn walked off with Myrtle in tow. The green dragon cast him a glance before wandering off. Awkwardly, he waved to her. The two disappeared, leaving three behind.

Tris scratched her head then cleared her throat. Roland looked in her direction, noticing she was holding something in one of her paws.

"Check this out." Between her claws was a segmented cube. Each side seemed to be made of a different metal, representing different colours. It glinted in the firelight.

He shifted towards her. Harper looked up for but a moment before folding his arms and lowering his head, eyes invisible beneath his broad hat.

"What is it?" he questioned. She grinned. Clearly, another one of her strange inventions.

"It's a puzzle. Made it myself." Each face of the cube was made up of nine individual squares. She rotated one of the columns, mixing brass and copper.

Roland narrowed his eyes. "...What are you supposed to do? Does it unlock something?"

"I'm going to turn the sides until it messes with my OCD," she told him, "and then I'm going to hand it to you. You have to make all the colours the same on each face again."

Roland chuckled. "That sounds frustrating. I don't think I should bother."

"Your lack of enthusiasm is frustrating." She pouted. Almost every square was mismatched now. The wildly contrasting colours made him cringe slightly. He hated how imperfect it looked. "Come on! Give it a shot!"

"Oh, fine." Roland took it from her paws. He guessed something to occupy himself with while the others were gone would take his mind off what Myrtle might be saying to Ashlyn. Roland didn't feel as though Myrtle would take kindly to the ice dragoness.

Every time he turned one of the cube's faces, he felt like he messed it up even more. Strangely, despite his irritation over the puzzle cube, he couldn't help but feel a slight addiction grow out of futilely turning squares.

"You're _really_ bad at that." She laughed. "I can solve it in twenty-one–"

"Shut up, I can do it!" he snapped back. "I am _not_ dumb."

Tris nudged him with an elbow. "You're also very stubborn. You'll never do it. There's over forty-three quintillion possible combinations."

He growled before returning to his fruitless attempts to return the cube to its former perfection. He managed to solve one side five minutes later, but turning all the other sides only messed up the other.

He sighed before chucking it on the ground in front of him. "Okay, fine. It's too hard."

She picked it up and dropped it into her satchel again, chuckling all the while. He only felt more and more embarrassed as time went on.

"So, uh..." He tried his best to direct their conversation away from his failure. "Hey, where do you come from? I've noticed you have an accent, as faint as it is."

"Oh, I lived in Lingrad." Her tone was surprisingly nonchalant. Roland was taken aback.

"Wait, where all the war stuff is going on? How did you make it out? I've heard they've blocked off all transport."

"I came here before that stuff started five years ago. It was actually a really nice place to live before all of that. Me and my parents sailed here and settled down. I think."

She wasn't with her parents anymore, though. He thought about where they were, but didn't believe it was such a good question to ask right now.

"If you're wondering about my parents," she said, somehow reading his mind, "I'm not really sure. I barely even remember them. I think I was only two years old. I remember being with them one day, and then I was in the orphanage the next."

"And then I picked you up," Harper joined in, lifting his hat slightly. "I was compelled to take you. You wouldn't stop looking at me with those damned eyes..."

"You mean these ones?" Tris opened her eyes up wide, her muzzle drooping. Somehow, Roland swore her pupils were growing. 'Pick me' was written all over her face.

"Stop that," the cheetah grunted. Tris chuckled.

"But it's _funny_." She placed her paw deep into her satchel once more, fishing for something else to speak about. Roland wondered what exciting invention lied within. "You're always like this. You can't take a joke."

"I can take a joke when we aren't in the middle of nowhere, constantly in danger." Harper's voice grew dangerously serious. Tris flinched at the tone. "Keep your racket down. You'll disturb the death hounds, and surely by then you'll realise your mistake."

"Oh, please," Roland said, "I can't smell dog for miles, other than the one right behind me. Don't worry, Harper."

Fluffy seemed to wince at the remark.

"...Alright." The cheetah sighed before lowering his head. "Let us hope those other two come back soon. Their conversation must be important if they've been gone for this long. I trust Myrtle enough to come back soon anyhow."

Roland hoped so too, but he could give them time to work it out. He only wanted the best for the both of them. If they could do it, it'd make things far easier in the long run. Conflict was perhaps the last thing he needed right now. "You could say that."

Roland didn't think they would be coming back for a while, though. He knew Myrtle had issues with everything – he could tell by the way she'd been acting, but he had hopes they could work it out.

Still, he couldn't help but feel a little worried, especially for Ashlyn. A small part of him expected things to go south, but he remained optimistic.

Minutes passed, and each one was more tense than the last. Roland couldn't help looking from side to side, even up and down, every few moments. He grew restless, awaiting Myrtle's judgement. He stared in the direction they went, his eyes only meeting the black.

He felt like it'd been an hour, yet he knew it had been twenty minutes. The sky seemed to reflect his thoughts, darkness encroaching with outstretched claws; fire drew jagged, animated shapes in the grass and across nearby oaks. No longer could he see sparse trees dotting the landscape, nor could he find any sign of the pair that'd left.

Roland itched at a leg, distracting himself from his thoughts; worry found a way to sneak in, however. Had something happened? He hadn't expected it to take this long.

Harper looked to be growing impatient. Tris looked at the red dragon and shrugged, keeping the silence.

Roland, finally, felt like he had to get up and look for them. If they were still talking, he didn't want to intrude, just see what they were up to.

"Maybe I should..." Roland trailed off, dusting grass off his chest. "I might go and check on them. I don't think–"

Snapping twigs caught his attention. He turned around in a hurry, Harper lifted his hat, and Tris looked up from the metallic cube in her paws.

He almost set himself back down, seeing Ashlyn, but when he didn't see the green dragoness, he frowned.

"You're back," Harper spoke. "But what about Myrtle?"

"She, uh..." Ashlyn sighed. "She... n-needed a bit of time to herself."

She walked into the firelight, stepping past Roland. The red dragon watched her as she set herself down.

"Where is she?" he asked. Ashlyn didn't meet his gaze.

"Not far. Just walk forward a bit. She's sitting over near a pond."

Roland assumed what he'd feared had happened.

"I'll go and get her," Roland said before anybody else spoke up. He knew he needed to talk to her. If they together couldn't solve this, he'd just have to do some nudging in the right direction. "It's... cold and dark out here. Stay, Fluffy."

Roland didn't wait for any confirmation. He turned and started jogging. The cold was harsh on his scales; the breeze played in his eardrums. Dark clouds shrouded the moons' eternal glow, and his gold eyes seemed to meet nothing, but he could pick up Myrtle's scent easily enough.

Myrtle wasn't far ahead, just as Ashlyn had said. She watched a small body of water, rippling as tiny bugs bounced about the surface. She didn't turn around, but Roland knew his presence had already been sensed.

He approached carefully, as if Myrtle were great hound waiting to bite and tear at him for his hopes and his thoughts. Something told him the conversation prior hadn't gone well. He felt a hole open in his stomach.

"Myrtle..." He sat himself next to her. Myrtle didn't bother looking up. She placed a cupped paw into the water, then raised it to her lips. "You feeling okay?"

"...No," she grunted, shaking the water from her paw. "Roland, look. I... Why do you..."

He exhaled. "I already told you, Myrtle. I know it's crazy, and I'm still getting used to her, but all I can see in her eyes is a determination to prove herself. She's... not a murderer. Far from it."

Myrtle slumped. She looked like she wanted to believe him, but couldn't bring herself to do so.

"Try looking at it from her perspective." Roland placed a paw to her shoulder. "You come from a father who wants nothing more than to use you as a weapon and hide himself under a cloak. He doesn't care at all. He'll force you to do anything, all to satisfy someone's wishes."

Myrtle looked up. "She was tellin' me about the Guardians. Is that really true? They're supposed to be enforcers of peace, but from the way she puts it... they're nothin' but pawns worshipping the Dark Master."

"She doesn't have a reason to lie." Roland fixed his eyes on the little glowing bugs hopping along the water. Myrtle watched them with him.

"It doesn't take away from the fact everyone's dead 'cause of her." Myrtle shook her head. Roland could feel her shivering. Whether it be from the thoughts, or the cold, he didn't know. Maybe a little bit of both. "All of our friends, the sewers... Don't you think about that?"

"I do. I have a lot." Roland nodded. "But she's not the one I hate. It's Aurus and the Guardians of Warfang. Ashlyn's the closest to blame, I know, but there's more to this than just her. I'm just trying to look at the bigger picture."

Myrtle breathed a shaky breath.

"I wanna believe you, Roly. I really do. But I'm... I'm just really struggling right now. All of these damn thoughts. All of this... This stuff's wearin' down on me."

He smiled warmly. "Same here. But... you just need to forget. Move on. That's all we really can do."

"Moving on and forgetting aren't the same things, Roland." Myrtle looked at him. Even in the darkness, he could see those leaf-green eyes, full of confusion. She was curious over what was going through his mind, he could tell. All he could do was admit that that _was_ true. "You can't just... _forget_ all of this happened. That's impossible. I won't ever forget."

"Then..." He shrugged. She was right. He knew he couldn't just forget about it all. He'd been lying to himself, over and over again. No matter how many times he told himself to move on, his thoughts returned to everything horrid. He wished it were that easy, but that trauma would stay with him forever.

But he could at least forgive. Better that than hate. Ashlyn wasn't bad and he knew it. If she felt like she could improve, Roland would do what he could to support her.

"You can't just hate her forever, Myrtle. She's going with us. And if you can't deal with her until we reach Warfang, then... Well, I guess that's where we all split up, except you and me. I'm doubtful you'll see her again."

"Does she even _want_ to go to Warfang?" Myrtle suddenly asked. Roland was about to nod, but then it struck him.

Did Ashlyn want to go with him? Or was she feeling forced to because of him?

The last thing she wanted to see was there, the Guardians that had turned her life to ruin. He'd thought she wanted to go to Warfang, but he'd neglected that fact.

Now he knew she was only going because she felt forced to.

"I... did tell her that she didn't have to go if she didn't want to," Roland said. "But I think she feels like she has to anyway. Maybe I should go and talk to her, see what she wants instead of what _I_ want."

"Maybe that'd be for the best..." Myrtle sighed. "We should go back. It's getting cold out here."

Myrtle walked off without waiting for him. Clearly, she didn't even want to think about it. She'd rather ignore Ashlyn than learn to accept her.

He couldn't blame her. He knew he was more trusting than her, more willing to accept faults. Hopefully with time she'd come to accept her.

Roland let out a deep breath before heading back to the campsite.


	19. An Ember of Hope

An Ember of Hope

Roland flinched at the touch to his stomach, his side rubbing against fur. Fluffy let out something akin to a groan. The dreadwing shifted and Roland copped a mouthful of hair.

His eyes shot open and he coughed on the rotten taste. Grass rustled and he looked up, finding the shadow of a blue dragoness slowly backing away from him, quivering and alert. She eyed the hulking beast sitting on top of him.

"W-what?" Roland released the yawn caught in his throat, then rubbed his eyes with a free paw. "What is it, Ash?"

"I-I, uh... S-sorry for waking you, but..." She looked behind herself, pointing skyward. He couldn't tell what she was looking at from beneath the soft, smelly body above him. "Y-you should take a look at this."

"Mmm... What could be so important as to need _my_ attention?" his voice came, groggy, with a drowsy smile on his maw. "Up, Fluffy."

The dreadwing stopped staring at the ice dragoness and lifted itself. Despite the rotten scent, he was sad to see the dreadwing walk elsewhere. Fluffy made a nice blanket. This cold, harsh against his scales, almost made him call the dreadwing back.

"Now, what are you looking at?" The red dragon squinted into the night sky. He could make out blurry shapes, faint colours and speckles of light. "I really don't like being woken–"

He stopped. His vision was impaired, but he could tell where her thoughts lay. A line cast across the sky, a streak of glowing blue. It was rushing towards their campsite, coming from the direction they'd come.

"What the...?" He cocked his head. He didn't have time to ask any questions before it rushed overhead like a shooting star, leaving a bright, almost smoky trail, visible even through the clouds, high and misty above.

Ashlyn was astonished by the blue, brighter than even her polished scales. She looked to Roland and back again. He was in total awe, bewildered, in stunned silence.

"It was... so far away before," Ashlyn murmured, turning to look towards the streak. It took a sharp turn, flying straight along the coast, before it disappeared from view. "And now it's just _gone_."

Roland was reminded of the other streak, grey and cloudy. They shared the same features, except for their colour. That definitely wasn't a shooting star.

"It's so pretty..." Roland watched the trail fade from the night sky. It glimmered before petering out like a soundless firework. "It reminds me of the other streak we saw..."

"Y-yeah, that's what I was thinking." Ashlyn stepped in its direction. Roland looked back at the smouldering embers, his slumbering companions, and Fluffy before following in a jog.

She stopped right at the edge of a steep slope, paws clutching onto rocks, eyes wandering across the skies. Roland halted behind her.

"I'm... so confused." Ashlyn shook her head. "I've had thoughts, but..."

Roland's eyes met hers, his desire for answers deep. "You have an idea?"

"I've... I-I've read about something like this." She turned around, face set in fear. "About glowing streaks in the sky. I thought it was just some crazy fairy tale. The grey streak was nothing to me, but this blue one..."

"What is it?" Roland demanded. He'd wrap his claws around whatever answer he could obtain. He was sick of going unanswered, being unable to do anything, to find a solution.

Ashlyn stared at him for a few moments before she buried her gaze in the grass.

"I... I'm not too sure, Roland. I can't remember all the details." She shrugged. "Something about throbbing eggs?"

"Throbbing... _eggs_?" He lost the look of curiosity and almost fell over. The heart. That pulsing blue _thing_. Was that the egg she spoke of?

The blue streak... Was it connected to the blue of the egg? The creature inside...

He'd looked within, only to see the deformed body of a dragon, front legs missing. But dragons didn't grow in eggs like that. Not disgusting, fleshy things.

The one answer that came to his mind was that it was a wyvern. It couldn't be anything else. Long lost, ancient and almost forgotten, except for the ruins their archaic civilisation had left behind tens of thousands of years ago.

Had they come back? Who was laying the eggs?

"Fluffy took me out back in Midrun for a short flight," he told her. "He took me to a cave, and inside I saw a blue thing that throbbed. And inside of it was what I think is a wyvern."

"Wait, what?" Ashlyn gasped, wings lifting in shock. "A _wyvern_? Th-they don't exist anymore; they died out thousands of years–"

"Do you have any other explanations?" he countered. Ashlyn stood there, mouth agape, before finally shaking her head.

"I... I don't know what to say." She paced around, a claw on her chin. "It was a story Mum read to me. All I can remember is saying it was really dumb, and her being surprised by how blunt I was for a six-year-old. She agreed. That's... all I can remember, though."

Ashlyn started shaking her head. She wracked her skull, clenching her teeth. "...Damn it! Why can't I remember? Think, Ashlyn, think!"

Roland let his stirring apprehension out in a sigh. Some answers... But this only brought more questions. He hated that more than anything in the world.

Fluffy was watching the sky, Roland noticed, a curious, maybe even knowing glint in his eye. Did he have answers? The dreadwing had been the one to bring him to the egg...

Unfortunately, Fluffy didn't have the capability to speak. Stupid animals and their limits... Why was the knowledge always mere inches from reach? He could almost rake his claws across it.

He turned back to Ashlyn. "Well, it sounds like something we need to look into. Maybe we can take a look at the library together in Warfang?"

"Uh, yeah, good idea," she said. "If there's any place that holds knowledge on the wyverns, then it's the library. I'm not sure how much information they'll have, though. I wish I'd looked into it more when I was with Mum."

"We'll think about it when we get there." He yawned, watching the stars, as if to discern more movement. He desired just another glimpse, but the colour had faded from existence. Even the reds and greens coiling across the sky were now lifeless without that magnificent blue streak. "In the meantime, I think it's my turn to watch, right?"

"Y-yeah, I was just about to wake you up for that." She grinned slightly. "Do you... want me to stay up with you?"

He started walking back towards the campsite, returning the grin, though his was more devious. "Are you trying to say I'm gonna fail you all and fall asleep?"

"N-no!" she exclaimed. "I-I just thought you might... like some company."

"Nah, you're right." He stopped near Fluffy, who peered down at him with curious yellow eyes. He scratched the neck beneath the fur, receiving a quiet yet hearty coo as a response. "I probably would just fall asleep. But... I'm pretty sure there's more to it than just keeping me company, right?"

"You really _are_ perceptive." She chuckled softly. The laugh was quickly lost to the night. "I just wanted to talk to you about... the things that happened."

As he expected. He knew Myrtle and Ashlyn's conversation hadn't gone well. Roland was surprised Myrtle hadn't been angered, but then he wondered if she was keeping her calm for him. "Wanna go somewhere else?"

"Yeah, sure." Ashlyn led the way. Roland went to follow, but felt a tug on his wing by the large creature behind him. He watched Fluffy with interest, but the dreadwing's concerned eyes made him slump a little.

"It's okay, Fluffy." He loosed his wing from the dreadwing's talons. "I won't be long."

But Fluffy shook his head and Roland pondered why. The monster turned its gaze to the skies. He had a fair idea what the dreadwing was scared of.

"I know, I'm a bit scared of it, too," he consoled Fluffy. He reached the dreadwing's head with his paw and scratched the forehead. "That explosion almost got me and you. But it's gone now. Don't worry about me, bud."

He looked back to find Ashlyn looking at them both, a small smile on her maw. She was waiting for him and he was about to leave, but he didn't expect her to approach the dreadwing. Somehow, she found the bravery to lift a paw to the beast's neck, in spite of the fears she had, in spite of even the _smell_.

She scratched that part of the neck, as if it was instinctual, and the dreadwing leaned in. Roland saw that smile growing.

"It's okay, Fluffy," she said. "I doubt it was anything harmful. Please let Roland and I have a talk. And watch over the others while we're at it."

The dreadwing looked down at the pair of them, then just to Roland, as if waiting for him to confirm the request. He nodded his head and the dreadwing left them both with something akin to a quivering sigh. Roland pitied the dreadwing, but he didn't mind the feeling of protection that Fluffy gave him. He could deal with the smell if it meant he had a loyal companion by his side every moment, wanting only to fulfil his commands. Of course, he'd return the favour in scratches and snuggles.

"Alright." Ashlyn spun once more, heading off into the darkness, warily eyeing the ground as she trod forward. Roland followed suit, a few steps behind her.

He recognised the pond before him from a few hours ago. Ashlyn watched the glow of the moons, reflected in the dark water. He shivered; somehow, it was colder there. His tired mind speculated whether Ashlyn was filling the air with a chill using her presence as an ice dragon itself.

She wet her lips and looked up at him, clenching her paws in the grass. "I'm... pretty sure you can tell how the conversation went."

"Not the best, I suspect." Roland's eyes left hers, falling to the rippling water, then a lily pad's budding flower. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pressured you into it so early. Myrtle needs time. She doesn't understand yet."

"She _understands_ ," Ashlyn explained. Roland watched her again, this time with intrigue. "She just... doesn't like how I went about things. And she's right. I know I went about this all in the worst way possible, and... now we're here. That's on me."

"C'mon, Ash, I thought we went over this whole–"

"And I still can't comprehend why you think the way you do." Her eyes were hard and fixed. Roland could sense a hint of venom gathering in her voice, her dislike for confusion growing. "Every bone in my body tells me you should hate me for what I did, yet that isn't the case. There's something you're not telling me. There has to be a doubt in your mind _somewhere_."

"I've already told you what I think," he said. "I have been questioning myself all this time, but I really think you can do better. You barely had any control–"

She put a paw up. "There are so many things I could've done to prevent all of this. But I was too scared for myself to do anything. I was too selfish. Look at what's happened."

"I _know_ what's happened." He sat straighter, eyes glowing with golden determination. She needed to leave these thoughts behind. "I want you to make amends, but you can't do that if you keep focusing on all this negativity rather than what you can do to help."

"Roland, I _am_ trying to think!" Her paws clenched around the grass. "But there isn't _anything_ I can do to make this right! Thousands died because of me! I was just a fuse for a bomb... and the more I try, the more everything I destroyed crumbles! Myrtle doesn't want me near her. The only reason she hasn't... f-fucking attacked me is because of you. She _deserves_ to kill me, after everything I did to her and everything she held dear."

"Ashlyn, please–"

"And you do, too."

Roland exhaled, nipping his lower lip to the point of nearly making it bleed. He couldn't begin to describe how sick of this he was. Over and over, logic colliding, fighting a futile war. She'd seemed to understand so many times, yet these thoughts plagued her so.

Of course she could do better. Everyone could. If old queen Cynder could prove herself after murdering thousands of people, anybody could.

Yet Ashlyn just didn't understand. It frustrated him to no end.

"Ashlyn, I don't want you dead," Roland spoke, tone solemn. "That wouldn't be right. Revenge is... petty. I know what happened is horrible, but you need to move on from all that..."

"So, you're saying I should just _forget_ all this happened?" she asked. He sensed the poison in her tone, that growing anger. He wouldn't be lying if he was frightened by her when she was mad, but he wouldn't back down from this. She _needed_ to understand, or else her feelings would get worse and worse. "I can't just forget about it, Roland! We're sitting out here right now, in the middle of–"

"Moving on isn't _forgetting_." He looked at her, almost sternly, in those narrowed eyes. "It's _accepting_. I know you can't forget. I can't forget my own mistakes. But you can't just keep letting it drag you down like this."

"What would _you_ know!?" Her voice was higher, full of pain. Roland could hardly bear seeing her like this. He was taken aback by this anger; it was unlike the outbursts earlier, fury rapidly growing, an inward hatred for herself. Her self-loathing thoughts scared him. " _You_ didn't play a part in blowing up a fucking city! _You_ didn't kill THOUSANDS of people! _You_ didn't kill a _little girl_ because you couldn't f-fucking bear what your dad would do to you! That explosion should've just killed me! ...No, I should've gotten rid of myself a long time ago!"

She leaned forward, her wings flaring, fangs clenched. Roland leaned away, unable to meet her gaze, a look he thought would kill him if he dared a peek.

"Yet here I am!" She pointed to herself, nicking her scales with a sharp talon, and took a step towards him. Roland felt a hind leg move back on instinct. "A monster, walking away without _any consequences_! I should be tortured to death for what I did!"

"Ash, please just–"

"Stop 'Ash'ing me! You're not _listening_!" She was screaming now, taking yet another step, eyes beaded with tears. Roland wondered if the others could hear her. "Do you even hear yourself!? 'Oh, I forgive you, even though you killed _everyone_!'"

Roland tried and tried to stand his ground, but all he could do was let himself be pushed back. "Ashlyn, c'mon!"

"Why aren't you mad!? Everyone you loved is _dead_ because of me! Your best friend is dead! I willingly went along with my father! I'll never be good again!"

Roland felt a tree against his tail as he was pushed up against it. Ashlyn's tears flowed. She didn't even wait a second for him to respond.

" _Why aren't you mad_!?"

The words stopped before they could leave his throat. Fear coursed through his body, paralysing him to the spot. All he could feel was his heart drumming against his rib cage.

He couldn't give an answer. Her fury was failing her; her legs were shaking.

"Why..."

She fell to the ground, landing on her elbows, a quivering blue heap beneath his paws, shattered and crying. His fear was dispersing, but apprehension settled over. He opened his maw and listened to his own breath shake.

He stepped down from the large, gnarled root he was forced upon, watching Ashlyn, trying to summon the words.

"Ashlyn..." He got down to her level. She didn't answer, but he knew she could hear him. "Please... Look at me."

It took a moment, but eventually those eyes met his, bloodshot. He reached over with a paw, placing it upon her shoulder. For the first time ever, she didn't flinch in shock. He could tell, even with how shaky she was.

He breathed a silent sigh. His heart continued to beat in his ears.

"I'm... I'm an optimist, Ashlyn," he began. "I-I try my best to see the good in people. I know what happened, and I can only imagine how you feel about it all, but I can see good in you. I know that you didn't want this. Trust me when I say I think it was barely even a choice for you to begin with."

She didn't seem to know what to think, but she kept her silence.

"I... don't know if you can ever be considered _good_ again." He shrugged. "I... I honestly don't think anybody could consider you that way."

Ashlyn cocked her head, confusion once more taking over. "B-but... you..."

"No... I was an idiot for thinking like that," he said. "But... you can be better. All of us can, Ashlyn. You aren't just some outlier."

"A-after every... everything. I..."

"You know about Cynder, right?" he asked. Ashlyn nodded, but was perplexed as to why he would bring her into this. His heartbeat slowed and he could manage a small smile. "Well, you know she did something similar. She killed a lot of people. But with enough dedication and hard work, she was able to prove herself and sit next to Spyro, respected. Not everybody could trust her again, but that's only expected. People aren't just going to love you again at first glance, if at all."

"B-but Cynder... she was..."

"I know the stories say she didn't have a will, but that's not the point I'm trying to make."

Once again, she tilted her head, rubbing her paw against her eyes. "Then... what?"

"She did something terrible, or rather... something terrible happened to her, just like you. You were born under a horrible father, emotionally and psychologically manipulative. Cynder was taken and born under the Dark Master. If you think about it... those are actually pretty similar."

Ashlyn opened her mouth, but no words left it.

"Even after all that, she was able to be better." He took his paw away from her shoulder and hunkered down his stomach. The small smile splitting his maw grew a little. "She tried her very best to make things right, or as right as they could possibly be. Not everyone could trust her again, but she managed to grow from her actions, and if she can do it, I think you can, too."

She averted her gaze, clutching the grass.

"I believe in you, alright?" Roland never lost focus on her. She directed her eyes back to him, and he could see them wet once more. "Seeing you like this only strengthens my belief that you want to do better. That's all I should expect of you."

"I..." She sniffled, lifting herself off the ground. Roland followed suit. "Where... Where do I even start?"

"Just be nice and do what you can to help," he told her. "Be the best person you can be. It was a mistake getting you to talk to Myrtle, I think, so let's not take it overboard. Myrtle's not ready yet, and I don't know if she ever will be. Time does heal most wounds... Unless..."

"...Unless?" she repeated, puzzled. Roland smirked.

"Unless–" He shoved a paw into his satchel and drew out a red crystal "–you have spirit gems. Then it's instant."

Ashlyn didn't even know what to say, her mouth agape. Roland was worried she hadn't gotten the joke, but with time, she actually started laughing. He was overjoyed to hear that.

"Wow, okay, I wasn't expecting that," she said, a grin on her face. Soon, however, it was lost, replaced by yet more sorrow. Though, this time, he could sense hope within her expression. "But... you're right. All this time I haven't been listening to you. These thoughts are swallowing me whole. I need to have a bit more optimism."

"I'm glad I've convinced you." He patted her on the shoulder. "Also remember that a lot of the blame for this falls on Aurus, too. He was the one being controlling. He made you do things you didn't want to. If you'd actually wanted to kill these people, I'd think very differently about you."

Ashlyn nodded, then her eyes fell to the floor as she rubbed them free of tears.

"I'm sorry for getting mad at you and... crying and scaring you," she murmured. "It's wrong of me to just toss around a friendship like that, like it's nothing. I really am an idiot."

"It's all good," he replied. "My hope after this is that you stop worrying and start trying to think more positively."

"Okay... alright." She nodded. Determination settled in her eyes, and Roland had a hope they wouldn't need to have this conversation again. "I'll try my best. Thanks, Rol–"

"Hey!" a male tone called over the hills, Roland instantly recognising it as Harper. The cheetah rushed up the hill, towards the pond. He had his new pistol raised like he was ready to kill a thousand death hounds. "Are you two alright?! I heard shouting!"

From the way it was phrased, Roland thought Harper hadn't heard what they were speaking about. They could keep this a secret for now, maybe even after they'd reached Warfang. "Uh, yeah, we're okay! Don't worry!"

Ashlyn managed a sheepish grin, voice low. "I guess he heard me carrying on."

The cheetah stopped before them, eyes darting this way and that. "What in the name of the Ancestors are the pair of you doing out here? Were you fancying a midnight swim? And what was all that racket about? I thought I heard something about _torture_?"

"Um..." Ashlyn averted her gaze. "D-don't worry about it. I was just confused over something Roland told me. And we're out here doing, uh..."

"Just having a chat," he answered for her. "It's nothing now."

Harper stood waiting for the truth, with a claw below his mouth, but eventually shook his head. Clearly he knew he wasn't going to get a proper answer.

However, he had a different question on mind.

"You both left the rest of us there without anybody to watch over us?"

Roland immediately shook his head. "No, Fluffy was doing it. We weren't gonna be long anyway."

Harper opened his mouth, but let the words drift away, along with his suppressed irritation. Roland felt guilty, having been apologised to, and now making it seem like that was worth nothing.

"Alright." The cheetah motioned towards him with the firearm. "It's cold out here. Let us head back to the fire."

Harper turned around, adjusting his hat, before shoving off towards their campsite again. The two dragons followed swiftly, but Ashlyn paused before moving, waiting a little longer.

She turned to him as they paced up the hill. "Thanks a lot, Roland. It... it really means a lot."

"It's the least I can do," the red dragon said, tightening the thick scarf around his neck. "Don't mention it."

Roland wasn't sure if this night was going to go well or not, if Ashlyn was going to once again ignore his words and go back to her old thoughts, but hopefully now she'd realised her way of thinking wasn't helping. Maybe he'd said the wrong things a few times – he had regrets over sending Ashlyn to talk it out with Myrtle. Of course that wasn't going to go well. How had he been so idiotic?

But now, he hoped those thoughts would be gone. And looking at that reassured smile on her face, his only guess was that they were.

There it was, that shining ember of hope.

* * *

Roland was, once again, awoken early, but this time he didn't mind so much. Last night beneath his pet blanket, Fluffy, he'd slept soundly after waking Tris up to take care of the watch. It took him a few moments to notice it was Myrtle tapping him, and his thoughts led him to believe there being something wrong, or at the very least unexpected, as he soon heard.

Metal links and pieces, clinking and scraping together, distant on the wind. Hundreds of footsteps stamping through the wilds, across the winter plains. There was a distinct voice calling out above the noise, yelling to cease chatter and maintain order amongst ranks.

Roland walked with Myrtle to examine the intrusion, joining the others on the side of the hill, but he didn't even have to look to know what it was.

The bodies of the army were covered in black leather, green cloaks adorning their shoulders, moving in union. Thin, glinting metal rested by their sides, and upon the other hip lay what Roland thought was a firearm. Already Midrun had sent cheetahs; he was shocked they'd caught up so quickly. They were heading in the same direction they were supposed to be, towards the glowing Everlost Forest. It was nowhere near as large as the gathering he'd seen in Firemore, and there were no dragons or other creatures, but Midrun was clearly doing what they could. Mr. Varlend had been serious about stopping the purple threat.

If only he'd known the full story...

This all felt so pointless to him, knowing the purple dragon was already gone. He almost wanted to tell them, send them back home, but common sense told him not to approach.

What did he care anyway? They wanted to kill his best friend. Why even bother with them?

"I was hoping we could get moving early," Harper said from beside him. "But now there's an army in the way. And I would rather them do their job than get distracted by us. I should've been in that army back in Firemore, but alas, I am far too old to join a war. My life is already waning."

"How old are you, Harper?" Roland asked, watching the army with a keen eye. He wondered if they'd seen them all up here, staring down upon them. If anything, the leader, up the front and mounted on some big horned creature Roland hadn't seen before, didn't give two shits about them.

"In a few weeks, I will be fifty." Harper crossed his arms and leaned against the rough oak tree next to him. "We cheetahs don't live as long as you dragons. I only have ten more years in me before my fur starts falling out. I'd like to live as long as you, but... I suppose I wouldn't know what to do for that long. Your lengthy lifespan seems more like a curse than a blessing to me."

"Trust me, I dunno what I'd do for that long, either," he said. "I guess once I can settle somewhere, I'll dedicate myself to my writing. Maybe I'll meet somebody. I have no clue. If anything, Harper, you're looking pretty good for fifty years old."

"Thank you. I do my best to care for my fur, despite our circumstances. Most my age are ragged and... not pleasant to look at. I didn't want to become like them." Harper looked to the rest of the group, adjusted the black coat over his leather, and lifted the hat away from his eyes. "What do you all suppose we do for the time being? We aren't short on time. We could hunt for breakfast, perhaps even cook a proper meal. Do any of you have anything you want? Within reason, of course."

Tris, who had been whispering to Myrtle, raised her head at the request for ideas. "Well, there's plenty of piggle out there. We could collect some wild vegetables, and... I'm pretty sure we have coffee beans, right?"

"In my satchel," Myrtle responded, patting the leather container. "We just need some water, but the only source of clean water near us is the Faymaw, and that's all the way down there." She looked behind her and pointed away from the army. "I ain't walkin' that far."

"I'll do it," Ashlyn's voice came swiftly. Myrtle glanced at her strangely, but shrugged a moment later. "I, uh... just need something to hold it in."

Harper gave a low grunt of confirmation before pulling a jug from the rucksack sitting beside him. Roland wondered just how much was in there, and even if it was bottomless. He'd seen several bulky, unnatural items come from within its depths. It seemed packed to the brim, yet it managed to hold everything he could ever need while travelling, and probably more, like all of Tristana's metallic gizmos. He'd forgotten to ask her about them in Midrun, but then again, it wasn't as if he was spared much of an opportunity to go over them with her. Maybe if he hadn't gotten drunk.

Breakfast came and went slowly, a fulfilling dish of well-done piggle and wild carrots covered in a thick sauce Roland hadn't the name of, courtesy of Tris. He'd liked those cookies she'd made when he'd visited, so he hadn't doubted her ability. Thinking back to last night's meat, he was thankful he wasn't swallowing a mouthful of charcoal eating this one. Fluffy was constantly hovering over his shoulder, and finally, he caved enough to throw the dreadwing a piece of his meal. He was a little shocked when the dreadwing spat a glob of brown mush onto the ground, hacking and spluttering. Maybe dreadwings didn't like piggle or cooked food.

Harper had said something about them devouring elements as a means of sustenance... Perhaps cooking animals drained the magic within.

After their dinner-like breakfast, the army had disappeared miles and miles ahead, and they finally got moving again. The walk was a sluggish one; Roland hadn't really gotten over the pains in his muscles. Although he could keep up the pace if he needed to, he was a sprinter, not a long-distance runner. Harper's steps were quick and light, leading them across yellowing plains and back to the dirt path – the red dragon was struggling to keep up, but he knew he could manage. Better they move with haste and get to their destination quicker.

They stopped towards the middle of the day to take a breather, Roland chatting and joking with Myrtle. He had lurking worries that their friendship would be hindered with Ashlyn around and Drevon gone, but all was strangely okay. Other than casting the occasional glance at the ice dragoness, she seemed totally normal and messed about as if she were with a group of her best friends. Tris even joined in, and overall, it was nice to chat like they were still in Firemore again. Almost everything he cared for was gone, but he tried his best to maintain high morale. He could make a new life for himself, meet some new people, and start his writing again, all in Warfang.

It was mostly just Drevon that he felt miserable over now. But he masked that as best as he could behind his jokes and optimism. He was trying to accept it, thinking that maybe he should've been expecting this to happen after befriending the purple dragon.

He felt guilty letting an explosive vessel brimming with power into such horrid circumstances. The purple dragon hadn't belonged in the sewers. He should've noticed Seth's distrust at first and gotten the purple dragon somewhere else, a safe place where he could be happy.

Maybe Seth had been right in the end... Drevon had only amounted to a ticking time bomb; his fuse had finally been burnt away. Roland had always seen more in him than that – a real person, with real feelings, and a good friend – but he should've also seen the obvious. All he'd ever wanted in the end was happiness for the sewer thieves, yet that had come at the cost of an entire city and all of their lives. It wasn't too much to ask, right? Just a sliver of joy?

He tried to leave it for now. Everything had gone wrong, but all he could do was accept it, stomach it all. Crying over it wasn't going to do anything for him.

He could move on. He'd get to Warfang, start his life anew. That positive thought was one of the only things keeping him going.

"You right there, Roly?" Myrtle tapped him on the shoulder. He shook his head, mind snapping away from his thoughts. "You went quiet on us. Somethin' we said?"

"O-oh, no, I'm just daydreaming." He adjusted himself on the felled log overlooking the grasslands, faint traces of snow freckling soft yellow blades. He gave Myrtle a wide grin. "What were we talking about?"

"Wow," Tris exclaimed, a smile behind her paw. "You memory is non-existent."

"I was more focused on the dreadwing _breathing down my neck_." Roland turned and gave Fluffy a narrow glare. The other two whipped around and jumped in fright, Myrtle more than Tris. Roland chuckled.

Myrtle's wing shot into the air. "Tell your winged dog to go back up there!"

Fluffy growled, but his focus was on Roland's apologetic expression. The red dragon merely lifted his head skyward, about to issue the command, before Fluffy took off into the skies without one. Roland's jaw hung loose.

"You have some sort of connection to Fluffy, I swear." The yellow dragon observed the dreadwing, flying big circles in the sky above them. "I've seen loyal dogs before, but never a creature so loyal you don't even have to tell it to do things."

"I've barely even seen him before." He was eager to learn more about Fluffy. Someone had to have sent the dreadwing after him; he believed that now. Why else would this dreadwing have this connection to him? "I feel like someone else trained him. But who could train a monster like this?"

"I've never seen anything like it..." Tris lowered her eyes to Roland's level. "Anyway, I have something to ask Ashlyn. See you both in a bit."

Roland and Myrtle both said brief farewells. Roland eyed Myrtle, who watched Tris as she left.

"So..." A teasing glint sparkled in Roland's eyes. "What do you think of her?"

Myrtle gave him a look that screamed 'I want you to die.' He returned it with as much innocence as he could muster.

"I just wanna know! Please?"

"She's nice," she grunted. Her gaze wouldn't meet his. Roland reached for her shoulder with a paw, a sly grin on his face, but she slapped it away. "Don't touch me!"

"Geez, Myrtle," he scoffed. His voice turned to a mere whisper. "C'mon... it's _so_ obvious."

She gritted her teeth together, but she let out a sigh between them. "...Fine. She's hot. I'm not sure if she's... the right material, though. She just feels way too out of my league, ya know? Plus, it's way too early to say anythin'."

"I guess so." He looked over at Tris, stopping near Ashlyn. The blue dragoness seemed to chuckle at something she said, and Tris led her over somewhere else, out of sight. Harper watched after the two for a while, but ended up pulling his hat over his eyes, as though deeply troubled by something. Roland cocked his head.

He turned to face Myrtle. She was fixated on the spot they'd vanished. She gave a low grunt before pulling her eyes away from it.

"Hey, Myrtle, I..." Roland watched her fall to her hindquarters. She didn't show him her gaze, instead focusing on a pebble on the ground, moving about as if it was alive, glowing a dull greenish hue. It darted left and right, following Myrtle's claw. Roland wiped a paw through his grubby frills. "Uh... You know that blue pulsing thingo I was telling you about?"

"What about it?" Myrtle lifted a claw and sent the little stone she'd created skipping across the ground. Roland licked his lips.

"Well, I saw something I thought was related to it," he said. Myrtle didn't appear to be interested. Suddenly, her enthusiasm and happiness had disappeared. A facade? Usually, he saw through those, but he did know Myrtle for tough barriers. "There was this blue glow that shot through the sky. It was like a shooting star, but ten times more beautiful..."

"Wish I was there to see it." Myrtle shrugged. She drew little pictures in the dirt with her talon, circles with jagged edges. Roland tried to make something out of it, but nothing came of his thoughts.

He took a seat right next to her. Her nail almost connected with his foot, but she withdrew it and wove shapes elsewhere. "You doing okay? Sorry about being an arsehole. I can stop teasing you if you want."

"Nah... I don't really care if you do. Wouldn't be the same if they weren't teasing each other. Just thinkin'. Don't mind me, Roly."

It was obvious to him. After his conversation with Ashlyn last night, he felt that maybe an apology for sending her after the green dragoness was in order. He lowered his voice to make sure Harper wouldn't hear.

"It was all me, Myrtle." He raised his paw to place it against her shoulder again. This time, she didn't swat it away. "I told Ashlyn that you both should talk things out. But... it's too early. I know how you feel. She just wants to help. Sorry about that."

"...Meh." Myrtle shrugged. "I know she wants to help. That's fine by me. I'm tryin' my best to tolerate her. Once we get to Warfang, we part ways, and I never have to see her again. Don't agree with what she did, but I understand where she's comin' from. If you wanna bring her along, be my guest. I just don't want you to expect us to make up or whatever. I don't think that's possible. I can't forget Carolin and Drevon and... all the others."

"No, I don't anymore." He nodded. "We have different opinions and I shouldn't try to force mine onto you. As long as nobody's angry, it's fine."

"I do wanna believe you, Roland. I told you that last night." Myrtle brushed a paw over the dirt, wiping away her scribbles. "I think of you as a leader – my leader, anyway. Maybe I'm still thinking about all this shit, but I trust you, whatever you wanna do." Myrtle got up, wiping her claw on her chest. "I just hope you're makin' the right choice. I don't wanna be wrong about her again."

"Neither, but I can tell she's sincere." Roland looked to Harper, who had started walking in the direction Ashlyn and Tris had gone. The cheetah looked back for a second, motioning to Roland for him to follow. "I guess we're going now."

"Alright." Myrtle paced more quickly than he expected; he guessed she was eager to catch up to Tris and begin another conversation. "By the way, have you talked to her about if she wants to go to Warfang yet?"

"Oh, uh..." A sheepish grin pulled at his muzzle. "Not just yet. I will soon. I don't want her coming along because she feels forced to because of me."

"Do it soon." Myrtle nodded before running into a jog. "Now let's catch up. We ain't far off the forest now."

Myrtle wasn't looking forward to the forest, but he was. He'd heard stories of its beauty, of its mesmerising depth. The trees stood like a blanket; sunlight ceased to exist within, but he'd heard of mushrooms and animals that apparently glowed, lighting the path through. As long as travellers didn't stray from the path, the journey through would be an amazing one.

Of course, he'd also heard stories of where the name came from. Forever lost. Tales in books told of people lost within, consumed by monsters concealed beneath a facade of beauty. But those were only tall tales told to children to keep them from running off. The place didn't look all _that_ scary.

For now, he was excited. He couldn't wait to immerse himself within the Everlost Forest. And maybe the forest would spawn some ideas for his writing.


	20. Little Lights Leading the Way

Little Lights Leading the Way

Roland couldn't help but be in awe. There it was, the first blockade. The first obstacle on their way to reaching Warfang.

The Everlost Forest, mighty and tall, towered over them. It stretched beyond low clouds, a sea of murky green and cloudy white mist, lit by sparse blues overhead. Its body was as imposing as it was beautiful.

If he'd been younger, perhaps the gnarled roots and luminous depths would've seemed frightening, but in a weird way was instead inviting. A gravel path led into the forest's wide maw, cutting an arch through its gullet. He couldn't see through to the end; the darkness within obscured even the first twist in the path.

"This place doesn't bring back good memories," Myrtle whispered beside him. She snickered quietly after. "I do have a few stories I wanna tell, though. Atmosphere in there is _perfect_."

Roland looked over the greens and the azure lights, but couldn't quite place how it would be a good setting for horror stories. Maybe he'd have to wait until he was inside. "I'm... excited to hear them, Myrtle."

"I'm glad!" She punched him in the shoulder. "You're a pushover. You'll be squealin' like a piggle when you hear 'em."

"Heh, sure." He grimaced before walking up to Harper, who had his eyes set on the forest ahead. The cheetah folded his arms and turned around to face the dragons waiting behind him.

"Alright." Harper looked at each of them. "Before we head inside, you all must understand a few things. Myrtle already has an idea of what I'm about to say, considering her experience, but be certain you _stick to the path_. That is more important than anything inside the Everlost Forest. Do not, I repeat, do _not_ step off it for any reason. This place will try its damnedest to get you lost, even when you feel like you know exactly where you were before, and you won't be able to get through the thick canopy above to see where you are, mark my words."

Roland nodded. That much was understandable. He'd heard the stories before. That thick mist he saw floating above the forest would conceal all if he stepped in the wrong direction.

"We will also move in a tight group," the cheetah said. "We won't dawdle and we will make sure we stay in sight of each other, for more reasons than one. We don't want to get lost, but animals exist in these parts that will jump at the opportunity to take you if you are a straggler. This forest's beauty is no more than a disguise over the beasts within."

Roland looked back to the forest again and gulped. Now that was something to be scared of. The monsters reminded him of the imagination he poured into his stories, the challenges his heroine had overcome. The last thing he wanted was to be devoured by some big, ugly snake-looking thing.

"Thankfully," Harper continued, "the monsters are scared of light. The fungi will point us in the right direction. If for whatever reason you _do_ find yourself lost, head in the direction of light."

Well, at least there was a back-up plan if he _did_ get lost... He gulped down his saliva anyway.

"But that won't happen if you make sure to keep close to everyone. Don't daydream. Pay as much attention as you can and we _will_ make it through."

"I can't wait to tell you my stories," the green dragoness hissed. She was well aware of his growing apprehension now. But he decided to let it go. They were _just_ walking through a forest. That was all. Nothing to worry about. Like Harper said, follow the lights.

"Fuck off with your stories." He let a little grin cross his maw. Myrtle laughed.

"I will lead the way." Harper spun around, drawing an oil lamp from his rucksack. "I know there's light within, but it's better we're safe rather than sorry. Tris, if you could create a ball of lightning, I would be grateful."

"I've already done that." Tris paced ahead, the electric sphere held in her front paw. "Let's head inside."

Ashlyn joined Roland by his side, teeth clenched. Harper directed them all forward with the lamp.

"Alright." Harper took the first step forward, leading the way. "Let us head inside. We have a long journey heading through here. The quicker we are, the better."

* * *

"And then... _bam_! The wyrm snapped its jaws around Percy. Blood went fuckin' everywhere."

Roland's jaw dropped in mock terror. "Oh, Ancestors, how _terrible_!"

Even the light seemed to be snatched away by the dark and its greedy claws. Glowing fungi led the way forward, but beyond them was total blackness, as if sunlight hadn't existed in the first place. The cold in the air seemed enhanced by the dark, chilling him to the bone.

It was the perfect atmosphere for a scary story... and all Myrtle could tell was _this_? He couldn't help but feel a little disappointed, despite the smirk on his maw.

"Aww, c'mon, Roly," she said, stepping over a root jutting out of the ground. "I think that's my best one yet. I've been takin' some cues from your writing!"

"Blood isn't scary. It's _edgy_." He chuckled at her expense.

"I'll take my wing off you if you keep bein' mean." She pouted. Roland instantly shook his head.

"N-no, please, it's fucking cold." He ran a paw along his scarf again and shifted closer to the green dragoness. She'd offered to huddle up beside him for extra warmth, because she felt the same way. Something about earth magic being affected by the cold temperatures, or that's what she'd murmured when deciding to join him by his side. Her presence at his side wasn't noticed much by him. They were friends and this was fine.

"Then ya gotta say it's good!" Her words were more pleading than threatening, he found. He looked beside him to Tris, who was quietly laughing over Myrtle's behaviour.

Roland sighed. "Your story is amazing, Myrtle. I really liked the part where... where, uh..."

"I liked it, Myrtle." The yellow dragon grinned. "You tried your best. That's good enough for me."

"Yeah, you're the only reasonable person here!" Myrtle exclaimed. Roland noticed Harper looking back at them; the cheetah's head was cocked and he seemed about to open his mouth, but he was distracted by glow bugs fluttering around the embers of his oil lamp. He waved his paw about to shoo them away.

"Even if it wasn't... _scary_." Tris closed her mouth, bottom lip curled over her teeth. Myrtle exhaled.

"Fine. _Maybe_ I need to work on it," she said. Silence ensued after that, conversation drowned by the life of the forest.

Darkness impaired his vision, but his ears picked up chittering and scattering. Winter had come; leaves had fallen, crunching under his paws every few steps, but the Everlost Forest remained as full of life as ever. A little three-legged bird had whizzed overhead earlier, and he swore he'd seen two pairs of milky eyes staring at him through the mist and dark. Insects chirped, little critters hopping about the gravel in front of him, some even on his scales. He didn't mind their presence.

He looked up; no light at all, as if the void had devoured him, not even a ray of sunshine. One moment it'd been daytime and the next the sun had vanished. The only things guiding him and his companions forward were the glowing mushrooms littered across the forest floor and the plate-like bark of the trees, and the gravel path, reassuring beneath the pads of his feet.

Both Harper and Ashlyn ahead of them stopped for a moment, surveying their surroundings. The cheetah leaned forward as if he'd seen something skittering about the undergrowth. Roland and the two dragons beside him halted, but as soon as they had, Harper continued on his way, shaking his head. Ashlyn looked back at them and shrugged, and then moved on, quietly chatting with Harper about plans for later that day.

They had a quick stop at a river running through the forest later on. Roland wet his face and guzzled down a few gulps before they moved on, then watched a group of frogs as he waited for the others. They moved on, Tris with a claw beneath her muzzle.

It took her few minutes to voice her thoughts, staring into the dark fungal depths beside them.

"Have you guys heard of gem bunnies?"

"Yeah," Roland said. "They're rare and highly sought after. I saw a pelt on display back in Firemore worth a _ton_ of copper and wanted to steal it, but I wasn't able to."

"Well, this is where they live!" Tris explained excitedly. "I'd love to hunt for one because they're so rare – apparently their meat is to die for – but I don't think we'll see one. They stay away from the path and hide amongst all the monsters. People that go after them usually never return."

"That's a spookier story than Myrtle's." Roland didn't dare sneak a look at her, but it didn't matter in the end. She planted her elbow into his chest and he groaned lowly. Her features were dressed in innocence.

Tris lifted a brow. "Are you two always like this? Constantly making fun of each other?"

"Of course!" Myrtle exclaimed. "He treats me like garbage. He becomes my punchin' bag. It's a love-hate relationship."

"More hate –" He tried to suck in a deep mouthful of air "– than love."

Tris appeared to be concerned, but eventually ended up laughing. "I'm glad you two get along so well. Speaking of getting along, it sounds like Fluffy wants to right now."

Roland looked behind him to find the dreadwing rushing towards him and his group. He almost broke into a sprint to get away before his huge, monstrous companion could flop on top of him, but there were far worse monsters to worry about inside the depths of this forest than Fluffy.

The dreadwing's eyes darted about warily, landing on something in the darkness that Roland had no chance of making out. The red dragon sniffed the air for anything unwelcome, but he only picked up the earthy scent of trees, wet from the snow high above. Nothing seemed amiss.

Fluffy let out a screech, quieter than usual. Roland thought he heard a distant thump, but he felt he was just imagining it. Harper's eyes shot towards the dreadwing.

"What is it?" Roland asked, stopping. The dreadwing whimpered and forcefully stamped his back legs, kicking up pebbles, but that, of course, didn't mean much to him. "Something in the dark, obviously. But what?"

Fluffy turned back towards the patch of darkness, but shook his head soon after. Harper started walking again with an eye on the furred monster.

"I wish you could talk to me, bud." Roland sighed, moving on. Tris opened her mouth to speak once again, but she was stopped by another strange, distant thump.

The five of them stood in place yet again to listen. Roland cupped a paw around his earhole, his breath shallow, yet heard nothing.

"Was that it, Fluffy?"

The dreadwing didn't nod or shake its head. It only stared forward, shivering. Roland suspected it was something he didn't want to be seeing.

"It's far off." Harper held a paw to the pistol by his side. "But it shouldn't approach us. We're covered in light. I would suggest staying alert and keeping quiet, however."

They all nodded in unison and went on their way. Roland actively tried to avoid the leaves and make less noise against the loose path, but without a clear view on his side, his efforts were for the most part in vain.

That same slow thud came again, approaching, yet meandering and uninterested in those bathed in light. Roland thought he heard it breathing, deep and heavy. It was only Fluffy, though. Or so he thought.

An hour came and went. Those heavy feet had disappeared and conversation had returned, yet it remained subdued. Roland took to scanning the flowing river beside him, tinged green with moss and loose grass. A breeze shifted through the trees, high leaves whispering secrets to each other. Each leaf an eye watching, waiting for one to straggle behind. Caught falling behind the group, staring into the black above, he jogged to catch up with his friends.

Quiet loomed. He felt almost as if he'd entered some place sacred, like he wasn't supposed to be speaking. He would be punished by the beasts for doing so, for losing his way. He'd pay the ultimate price for distraction, by stepping out of the light the monsters cowered behind.

It took a while before his nerves calmed. The path spurred him forward. Conversation resumed as it once had as they stepped into a wider part of the forest. The trees had thinned into a hollow carved in Everlost's intestines. The river ran a course through the centre, and then suddenly veered left, followed by a bank brimming with little fungi. Further ahead, Roland could see the lights growing brighter, the mushrooms bigger and taller than before. As they walked through the hollow and reached the larger domes, Roland felt the need to touch one's cap. It wiggled and bounced, and he almost laughed before it started dimming.

"I forgot," Harper said. "Don't touch the mushrooms. They react to it and stop shining."

He nodded guiltily and left the others as they were. Myrtle turned around to look at him. She'd left his side a while ago, the chill more tolerable now.

"I've heard some say they're alive." Myrtle winked and Roland stifled a groan. "Spirits of the _dead_."

"Hey, speaking of spirits," Tris began, "did you know there's theories going around that spirit gems are actually the souls of dead people infused into gemstones?"

"I mean, they _are_ called _spirit_ gems." The green dragoness chuckled. "But I'm doubtful. Would make for a nice scary story, though."

"If only you could tell it well." Despite Roland's low voice, Myrtle glared anyway. Her menacing grin was difficult to see in the dark.

"I will deck you, lanky."

"It's just a thought," the yellow dragoness continued. "What if we were consuming other dragons to power ourselves?"

The thought was unnerving to Roland and would make him go off using them forever. He wouldn't consume some lost soul just to empower himself. What about all those people that took spirit gems for the sole purpose of getting high? Absorbing the dead just to have a bit of fun?

"Sorry... Maybe not the right topic?" Tris grinned sheepishly, but nobody responded after that.

He shivered. He didn't want to think about it. Myrtle was at least right in the idea that it would make a good story, one to tell around a campfire late at night.

He focused on the mushrooms littered across the ground and the large ones that stood like trees. He noticed little animals crawling on top of some of the larger caps and wondered why they didn't disturb the peace of the fungi. Perhaps Myrtle was right again, that the mushrooms were alive.

He wouldn't be surprised. The whole forest was teeming with life created by the Ancestors. Whether he could see it or not, he knew that creatures were watching them make their way through the depths of the Everlost Forest, chattering amongst each other, wondering why their hidden place had been disturbed by unfamiliarity.

Fluffy followed them at a close distance, but didn't mind heading towards the edge of the forest to snatch little creatures out of the bushes and mushrooms. His fear had since vanished; Roland felt the dreadwing belonged with all the creatures, the monsters hiding in the dark. He'd probably even be at the top of the food chain, able to stop creatures in their tracks with paralysing shock and fright, as long as he wasn't afraid of them like he had been before.

The path twisted onward, leading them over hills and into a large valley he didn't expect. The darkness was as oppressive as always, but he could see much of the landscape, smooth walls of rock lifting the land around it, brightened by the fungi and, weirdly enough, small glowing lamps hanging off high branches. At first he thought they were mole-made, iron strung via rope, but when he asked to inspect them and took off into the skies he found them natural. Vines held little glowing balls of plant matter, like stars spread along the canvas the darkness ushered.

"They're lifechains," Ashlyn said when he reached the ground again, waiting behind for him. "Aren't they pretty? They say that each time someone dies in this forest, a new lifechain grows. I wish I had some paper so I could draw them."

"I'll get you some when we get to Warfang," he promised. "I'd really like to see what you can do."

"I won't have a reference by then." She shrugged. "If only I could save this valley to memory..."

Rock pillars lined the valley, standing like guardians. Weirdly, he got the feeling moles had constructed something here because the pillars were arranged in a perfect circle. But it was far too ancient for that, wasn't it? Nobody would build anything in these woods.

He stepped forward, ahead of Harper, and stopped when his feet touched solid stone. He examined the surface, crumbled and disc-like. His claw trailed along indents chiselled into the stone, but they were too worn and the area was too dark to make them out. Harper stopped behind him.

"I've been here before, upon this very disc." Harper leaned down and touched its surface. "I have no clue what it is. Ancient wyvern work, I believe, but what it was used for is a mystery to all."

"Sacrifices!" Tris called out and then received a particularly stern look from Harper. She studied the stone at her feet for different reasons than Roland. "Sorry..."

"You know better than to doubt their intelligence, Tristana." Harper got up and brushed his paws off on his jacket. "I don't see anything here that immediately suggests sacrifices. This is all-around good stonework."

"Maybe she's right," Roland said, raising his shoulders. "I don't really see anything that doesn't suggest it, either."

"Well–" Harper began, but Roland chuckled and cut him off.

"I mean, I also don't really see anything at all."

Harper stood stiff for a moment before he exhaled and moved on without another peep. A smidgen of guilt swirled in Roland's stomach, but it was quick to pass when Tris snickered at the counterargument.

They were deep in the valley and the trees had once again grown thick. Roland watched little animals jump between the low branches he could see to distract himself from the cold and gloom.

He had a sudden thought, that Harper seemed to know something about the wyverns, regarding his comment on their intelligence. His curiosity knowing no bounds, he quickened his pace to catch up to him, leaving the others behind.

He voiced his question to Harper, who lifted his brow in surprise.

"You're curious about them? Why?"

"Oh, uh..." It took Roland a while to explain the blue egg he'd seen and the streaks soaring through the sky, as well as Ashlyn's familiarity with the subject. Harper nodded and grunted a few times, but otherwise didn't say much.

Harper shrugged as he finished. "I have heard the story. It's an old mythical tale about five wyverns, each representing an element. Fire, ice, electricity, earth, and wind respectively. It seems fictitious, however. I think you may have just seen some strange things."

"Maybe." But he couldn't get them off his mind. Something seemed far too coincidental about them. "What makes it seem like a myth?"

"It was written in the same vein as other fairy tales," Harper explained, "all of which have been proven false. We all know gnorcs and fairies don't exist. Furthermore, nothing can hold the amount of magic those eaters do."

"Eaters?" Roland cocked his head.

"That's what they named those five wyerns. Apparently, they consumed the elements, ridding the world of magic. It's said that, without the elements, a plague will be ushered in that wipes out all life, and then slowly turns the world to dust. Magic holds that back... somehow. It doesn't make any sense. It's not like it's happened before, considering we're all still here. That's why we think it's fake."

Roland nodded. That _did_ sound like a whole bunch of nonsense to him. If anything, it was a scarier story than whatever Myrtle had in store. He almost snickered at his thoughts, but he was kind of afraid of the earth dragoness reading his mind.

But whatever those things were, he would like to learn about them. He'd have to tell Ashlyn of Harper's explanation and see what she thought.

For now, though, he let it go. He had better things to do, the darkness to focus on, gorging on the light. Monsters lurked everywhere and the last thing he wanted was to be devoured before he could gain the information he wanted.

* * *

"It doesn't feel as dark here," Ashlyn remarked. She was right. The tops of the trees were visible now, jagged patterns of leaves and timber. Sunlight didn't break through the canopy and even the mushrooms were sparse. But, as they journeyed over the hill, everybody realised why the dark wasn't so oppressive.

Hundreds of thousands of blue glow bugs, little lights twinkling in the dark, leading the way. Roland struggled to find the words to express his amazement. A bug sauntered past his nostrils as they entered, but before he could swat it away, he realised they didn't want much to do with him. They flew around his body, though never touched it. He took a look at his companions, glimmering lights like gemstones across their scales.

He peered at Fluffy and found that the dreadwing was eating them. Roland quivered slightly in disgust.

Harper stopped where he was and dropped to one knee, sliding the rucksack off his back. He gathered many of the sticks and twigs on the ground, cleared away the glass, and struck a match, lighting a fire within seconds. Every bug flittered away from them and joined in a glowing ball around the fire, dancing about the embers.

"We'll stop here for the time being." The cheetah sat by the fire, sighing in relief.

Roland flopped onto his grey stomach with a groan. He fished in his satchel for his pocket watch and couldn't believe how long they'd spent walking. Ten full hours had passed.

Night was upon them now. The chirping of the insects he'd heard earlier had grown more pronounced. No more could he hear wildlife whizzing overhead or see monsters watching from the shadows. The forest, for the most part, had gone to sleep, and he was eager to join them, with or without dinner.

"Roland, I would like you to come with me in a few minutes," Harper said. Roland looked at him as if he was insane.

"W-what? Why?"

"I'd like for you to go hunting and foraging with me." Harper leaned against his rucksack. "I know, I know, you've been out hunting more than any of us, but this is important."

Roland let out a groan. He wanted so desperately to have a rest, but he supposed he could spare another hour. He still needed to learn, and Harper would probably make the best teacher.

"Fine..." He sighed. "Just let me sit down for a little while first..."

With that done, and a wave from the others, Roland and Harper left with Fluffy following closely behind. Harper complained about the dreadwing's presence, but Roland managed to convince the cheetah it would be fine. They paced further into the wilderness. Roland lost count of how many turns they took.

Roland didn't see much in the way of food. He was happy to know that the creatures of the night were asleep, not stalking him, but that also meant all of the prey was gone. Harper seemed to know what he was doing, though. He stepped into a patch of glowing mushrooms on the side of the path and pulled something white and dirty-looking from it: a different mushroom, this one lacking the glimmer of the others.

The cheetah turned to him, holding the mushroom up. "Look for these and pull them out. They're edible."

"Uh, alright..." He ventured along the path, searching for patches of mushrooms. Thankfully, they were common. Fluffy looked at him as if he was crazy. Roland suspected it came from the fact that the dreadwing couldn't eat them. By the time he was done five minutes later, he was holding a leg to his chest, clutching the mushrooms against it.

Harper lowered a small bag for him to put them inside, and then they moved onto the next thing. Roland cleared his throat as they went, the cheetah eyeing him.

"So... why me?" Roland questioned. "What's so important about bringing me with you?"

"I wanted to have a little chat with you," the cheetah said, turning back around, his pistol drawn. His eyes watched their surroundings for animals they could they take as their own. "How do I explain this...? Has Tristana been acting strangely to you?"

He frowned. Why was he bringing Tris into this hunting trip? "Um... define _strangely_ , Harper. And why are you asking me?"

"Well... she seems to be talking to you a lot, so I've been wondering if you have an idea." Harper took a long look into the darkness, his eyes narrowed, but moved on with a shake of his head. "Whenever I say something to her, her happiness wanes. It never used to be like that. Do you think I'm doing something wrong? Am I saying something nasty?"

So, the cheetah realised, but what in the name of the Ancestors was Roland supposed to say to that? Tell Harper that he was being unfair to Tris with what he was saying? He wasn't sure if the cat would take that well.

Perhaps that was the only real option, though. He had a chance to make somebody happier now, so taking the opportunity could only be a good thing, right?

"We're... We're all stressed out from the stuff that's happening," Roland said. "You included. I've felt like maybe you've been a little unfair on her. She'll say something or do something a little silly, and then you'll criticise her for it."

"Hmmm..." The cheetah stopped, holstering his gun. "I'm just trying to be serious about all of this. Firemore is gone and the purple dragon is at large. Things haven't looked this bad since the war."

Hearing about the purple dragon made Roland wince, but he couldn't possibly tell Harper. What would the cheetah do if he knew he was friends with him? In Harper's eyes, the purple dragon was an enemy. "I mean, you could loosen up a little. I know things are bad, but the only way I'm gonna keep myself sane through all of this is by having a little fun. That's not a bad thing. It's worse if you dwell on all of this."

"I'm... not trying to make her upset," Harper told him. He let out a breath. "But I know I am. I need to apologise. You're right."

"Like, I know everything wants to kill us in this forest," Roland uttered, "but if we stay in the light, we can have a bit of fun. It'd get boring if we didn't joke around. If Myrtle and I can do it, why can't Tris?"

"You do have a point." Harper shrugged. "I'll talk to her tonight. Let's move on."

And so they did. Harper grunted a few orders to Roland, though that was all. It didn't take them long for Harper to find something, some stray piggle in the forest. This wasn't their natural habitat; clearly, they'd been chased into the forest by something and hadn't been hunted by the monsters lurking in the murk yet. It didn't matter much to Roland, though. He was happy to have meat.

He licked the blood from his maw. This time it'd been a bit easier to kill an animal, though he was worried he'd become desensitised to violence if he kept this up. Happily, though, he threw his first kill to Fluffy, who chomped it down in two bites. No need for chewing if the meat and bones were ground apart in the throat. Roland shivered at the thought, knowing where the dreadwing's real name, Bone Grinder, came from.

"Tristana was always very bright," Harper insisted as they walked back, two piggle hoisted over his shoulders where the rucksack usually rested. "And people would praise her for that. She was one of the most gifted students in the entire academy, absolutely dedicated to her work."

"I see..." Roland replied.

"Other people used to visit our house a lot. I remember I wanted the kids on their best behaviour all the time. Pride was usually pretty quiet, but Tristana spoke up a lot and made silly passing comments." Harper looked down at the red dragon. "I think you'd be able to understand. We were in a formal setting. But then that started carrying over to the times we spent lounging about the house, and I am ashamed to say I've said some things I'm not particularly proud of. It was supposed to be fun. I'd even give them something to drink to lighten the mood a little... It's my fault, really. I know that I do it, but it's become habit."

"Why did people come around so often?" Roland asked. "I wouldn't want to be around that many people that much."

Harper gave a quick nod. "Neither did I, really, but it was necessary for what I wanted to achieve. These were important people. You know those writing colleagues I told you about?"

All the way back in Firemore, when he'd first met Harper. At the time he'd been a little suspicious of the cheetah, but his worrying had been wasted on nothing. "Yeah?"

"Well, they were higher-ups, more prominent figures than I. We managed to get along very well, and they offered me a great deal. Higher paying jobs than being a guard, better housing in the city, and later on a position in the government. Why they desired me is a mystery, but I suspect it had to do with Tristana's position in the academy. She was popular amongst them and saw great promise. My time went into making her look as good as possible, despite how excitable she was."

Harper paused a moment, a claw to his lip, before continuing. "They actually wanted her to pursue Guardianship. I asked her about it and she said that's what she was trying to do already, so I helped set her on the right track. I did all I could to secure better conditions for us both, and she put all of her time and energy into studying and training. But... I believe that's done something to our relationship. I regret what I've said to her in that time, what stress has made me do."

Roland felt a pang of sadness for the cheetah. At least Harper realised he'd been doing something wrong and wanted to fix it. He wasn't outright a bad guy. There were more layers to it than that...

"We need to talk to each other. We've been drifting for a long time."

Roland smiled at the cheetah. "Well, that's the first step. Just talk to her about things and I'm sure all will be fine. It's not like she hates you."

"I'll see how she feels. I just hope she thinks I love her because I get the feeling she doesn't."

Roland gritted his teeth. He knew that wasn't the case, but the divide between them was painfully evident. These little conflicts added up, made him want nothing more than to solve them. Hopefully now, however, they could make up and get along better.

"We shouldn't dawdle," Harper spoke a minute later. "The others are waiting for us to return. Tristana will be starving."

The others were excited to see them return with what they'd gathered. That night was spent sitting around the campfire, chowing down on a combination of smoky meat and mushrooms, and quietly chatting amongst one another. One by one, they all went to sleep, Myrtle left to stay up and keep watch for them.

* * *

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

Roland's eyes shot open. The world was upside down and he wondered why, only to find he was asleep on his back, his belly rubbing against the dreadwing's fur. Fluffy shivered against him, murmuring to himself.

That familiar stamping... Roland rubbed his eyes and stared into the darkness; they were greeted by nothing at all. But that sound in his ears, like an awkward heartbeat, pulsed in the distance, looping over and over. He tapped the dreadwing's underbelly and issued a quiet command to him to get up.

Roland paced in the direction it'd been coming from, stopping beside a tree that stood close to the black. He gazed with squinted eyes, trying to locate its creator, but there was nothing he could see without light.

"Roland?" Tris hissed from a few metres away, up to watch their surroundings. "You hear that?"

"It woke me up," he whispered back. It was constant and repetitive, but the sound was familiar from earlier. It wasn't slow and meandering anymore. These were quick steps, growing closer and closer. Then, as whatever lumbering beast made the sounds reached a point it felt was near enough, it backed away again before it could ever be seen.

"There's something in there." Tris walked over to him, eyeing Fluffy. "It's like it wants to attack us but it's too scared of the light to make its move. Do you think it's coming from the same creature we heard before?"

Roland rubbed a paw down the dreadwing's neck, trying his best to calm him before he screamed out again and woke everyone up. Something big was out there and Fluffy could probably see it, but it wasn't doing anything to them right now. He could admit being stalked by it was creeping him out, though.

"I'd say it is." He looked further into the woods, trying to discern movement. The Everlost Forest hid its spawn well, however. "What kind of creature makes sounds like that?"

"It could be a troll," Tris said. "But... they're slower than that. And they're also not scared of the light."

The sound grew closer than before. Closer, yet closer, to the point he thought he could hear dry dirt showering over stone. It stamped to the left before it was behind him. Roland spun around.

There was nothing. But the monster kept moving, pounding the ground with heavy feet. Fluffy jumped back, letting his shock out in a whine.

"Should... Should I wake up the others?" Tris asked. "Sh-should we leave?"

"M-maybe." Roland followed the thump with his eyes. "It's... like it's trying to scare us. If it wanted us dead, it would've already done something."

"Darn it..." She shook her head. "We should've just gotten a boat in Midrun. I know it's expensive, but..."

Fluffy whipped around, panting and panicking. Roland tried to calm the beast, but nothing he did stopped him from shaking. The dreadwing let out little whimpers.

"It's okay, Fluffy. Shh." His consolation earned no response from the dreadwing. The usually jagged, furious eyes of the dreadwing had widened, revealing their terror.

It was coming from everywhere at once. Roland looked this way and that, even up, but couldn't make out where it was coming from now. Fluffy was hyperventilating.

It wasn't safe here. They needed to go. The monster shifting in the dark was coming for them.

"Roland, we need to–"

Fluffy finally screamed out. Roland's ears rung, throbbing in pain. The trees shook with life; birds bolted from their nests in panic, and the air itself seemed to vibrate around the dreadwing.

Roland's companions jumped to their feet. Harper drew his rifle, a blast of earthen power left Myrtle's mouth on instinct, and Ashlyn was too frightened to do anything but stare at Roland in immense confusion.

The thumping dispersed. Roland watched the dreadwing warily, his teeth clenched.

Harper looked at the dreadwing in absolute shock. His paws shook like flickering shadows. "What was that for!?"

"The thumping..." Roland trailed off. Harper lowered his rifle, his face pulled into an expression of worry.

"Is it gone?" Ashlyn asked. "Sh-should we go somewhere else?"

"I think it is." Tris gave Harper a questioning look. "What do we do?"

"If it left, we should be fine." Harper's eyes darted about before he sat down again. The cheetah left the rifle by his side. "It won't approach us. There's plenty of light."

Roland stepped on one of the glowing mushrooms, watching as it went out via touch. Then a grim thought coursed through his mind, one that sent shivers crawling through his spine. "What if the monster puts out the lights?"

Harper shook his head. "No, the mushrooms only react to what they aren't used to. I'm sure that thing is familiar to the forest."

He said it like the forest had a mind of its own. What if the forest was sending monsters their way to get rid of them, destroy the unfamiliarity. Were they like a disease to this forest, cutting down trees and decimating plant life for their own gain, that needed to be eradicated?

That thought shook him to the core. He felt alone, despite his companions. The leaves were watching like millions of angered spirits.

"We'll go back to sleep," Harper said. "We _will_ be fine. Trust me."

It didn't take long for the others to doze off again, but Roland was kept up, in part due to the fact he was on watch now. But even after he woke up Ashlyn to watch the perimeter, he couldn't get the thoughts off his mind.

Who, or what, was watching them? Why was it stalking them?


	21. The Eldertree

The Eldertree

“No, you really have to _listen_ to it, Myrtle. Try harder. You can do it!”

Roland worked his eyes open the next day – or at least he thought it was a new day. Shockingly, Fluffy hadn't offered to be his blanket the night before. He instead found the dreadwing hovering over a patch of mushrooms, face buried in the dirt. Probably searching for bugs to gobble up if he had to guess. At least he'd calmed since the thumping the night before.

The red dragon hadn't slept well, though. Not only was he cold, his mind was occupied by the monster stalking in the shadows, running back and forth, trying to frighten them all. A trick it played on them all. Had it wanted them to move closer towards it so it could snatch them from the light and steal them away?

He didn't want to think about it. Something was following them and he didn't like it.

“If you've summoned rock before you can surely do _this_. I believe in you!”

Roland turned his head to watch Tris, the one speaking. She stood over Myrtle, gaze fixed on the green dragoness' glowing paw. Myrtle growled lowly, toes clenched around the grass. Roland frowned and decided to see what was going on.

“I... I can't!” Myrtle exclaimed as he approached. The magic halted its flow, green embers floating away and fading in the dark above. She raised her head and smiled at Roland. Sweat beaded her brow. “Oh... H-hey, Roly.”

“What are we up to?” Roland asked. Tris seemed disappointed in Myrtle, but excitedly chattered about their endeavours anyway, to the point where Roland barely understood her through her soft accent.

“Myrtle's trying to summon a rock pillar! It's a pretty basic technique, but she told me she wanted to learn it and I've always wanted to teach somebody what I know, so we're trying now!”

“Aren't you an electric dragon?” Roland remarked.

She lifted a brow. “My knowledge doesn't _just_ extend to electricity. I've read up on other techniques too, and it's not like I haven't watched others grow and learn in the academy.”

“... _Basic_ ,” Myrtle muttered. Roland knew she was eager to impress the yellow dragoness. As much as he liked to make fun of her for practically everything, he was willing to help her with that in any way he could, even if it just meant being emotional support.

“C'mon, Myrtle. You can do this.” He grinned. Myrtle smacked him in the shoulder. “Hey, I'm being serious!”

“I don't believe ya.” She chuckled and went back to channelling mana into her paw. Green rushed down her foreleg and struck the earth, grass wavering around it. She shut her eyes and pushed a harsh breath through her nostrils.

Tris put a paw to Myrtle's side. Myrtle shivered at the touch. “You already know how to summon earth with your mouth. Feel that energy flowing from your gut, through your veins, and into your leg.”

“Okay... okay...” Myrtle whispered to herself, nodding once. “I can do this.”

Roland sat down and watched her paw. Green particles spiralled around her leg. Something was happening; he could feel earthen energy in the air, in the ground he stood on. The earth was churning beneath him.

“Do you feel it?” Tris asked. Myrtle smiled.

“I do.”

“Then slam your fist into the dirt. That's all there is to it.”

Myrtle reared back, lifting her paw slowly, as if weights were attached to it. She was struggling to hold onto the magic; her neutral expression was faltering. But before anything could ruin the flow of mana, she planted a fist into the ground, releasing the stored magic into the dirt. And in no less than an instant, a stone pillar shot out of the ground, right below Roland's stomach. He clutched his abdomen, falling onto his side, starved of breath.

Myrtle opened her eyes, a paw to her muzzle. “H-holy shit! Sorry, Roland! I didn't mean that!”

“I... d-don't believe ya,” he mocked, releasing a pained groan with it. “W-why does it... always have to be me?”

“I-I didn't know where to summon it!” she exclaimed. Her voice was full of worry, but he could also quite easily hear the laugh in her tone. “I... Wait, I did it?”

“You did!” Tris pumped a fist. She looked at Roland and the excitement dispersed. “I hope you're okay.”

“I-I'm fine.” He got up. “You've gotta teach her how to control it.”

“That's next. You'd be surprised by how many people actually hurt somebody with that the first time they use it, though. I was worried I would be the target. This kind of summoning magic is partially controlled by your thoughts. If you don't direct it anywhere, it can latch onto the first thing you think about, or something close to it.”

“I-interesting. Also nice to know you were thinking of me, Myrtle.” The way Tris explained magic to him made it seem like far more than just a tool dragons took for granted. She'd really studied the way of the elements, taken everything into account. It made him curious again as to what his could be, if he had one. If magic was this fascinating, he wouldn't mind learning more about it. And who better to learn it from than the master herself?

“Anyway,” he continued, “where are the others? I noticed they aren't here.”

“Out gatherin' breakfast.” Myrtle pointed her free paw up the path, having started summoning another pillar – he took a few apprehensive steps away – where he and the cheetah had headed the night before. “Went out around thirty minutes before you woke up. Harper woke Tris up to tell her.”

“I was already awake, actually. Harper and I chatted for a little bit. Just about things.”

Roland wasn't too sure what to say, but that joyous glint in her eyes was a good sign things had gone over well. She definitely seemed more cheerful than she ever had, but whether that was because of them talking it out or simply because the subject at hand had been magic, he didn't know. He had hopes Tris was free in the way she wished to speak now, though.

With Myrtle and Tris training on one side of the forest, Roland spent his time petting Fluffy – he got a big slobbery lick in return – and eating some of the jerky he'd stolen from Midrun, awaiting the return of his companions. Sure enough, Ashlyn and Harper returned a quarter of an hour later with breakfast, strange fruits from the forest he hadn't seen before that tasted of those wild apples, though juicier and far sweeter. They grabbed their things, dusted the grass off their sides, and everybody got a move on, Harper once again in the lead.

No matter how many times his eyes wandered over the forest, Roland was amazed. He wished his vision wasn't clouded by the black and the mist, but that sense of wonder probably came from the fact he could barely see. Little animals scurried across the ground, lifechains pointing the way, twinkling topaz in the dark, dark void. Flora rustled with life as they advanced; like he'd thought the previous day, these unfamiliar faces probably perturbed their tiny minds.

The gravel path was getting narrower, the rocks not as pronounced. Harper told them all not to worry, that the path would stretch out again. Much of the gravel had been kicked over the side of the bank they walked along, gathering at the bottom of a shallow stream winding over the dirt and through natural tunnels. He guessed the fault belonged to the animals. Somehow he got the feeling the forest didn't like the intruders' attempts to carve a path through their hidden world.

Myrtle told a story about how many of the lives lost in the forest had actually come from people trying to make the path. Her efforts to spook him made him groan inwardly; however, it did seem a likely tale. Ancestors rest their weary spirits.

Harper motioned for them to stop with a paw, hunched over and watching. There was a noise in the air. Thankfully, it wasn't that dreaded thumping, instead a strange sound, like rocks being clicked together. The grass shifted and a light appeared around the bend in front of them.

Tris almost squealed in delight. Right there, ahead of them, minding its own business, hopped a small rabbit with a hide of sparkling gemstones. It sniffed the ground with its tiny nose and then proceeded to raise its head. It cocked sideways, as if awaiting their move.

“I-it's a gem bunny!” Tris whispered. She was more excited than Roland had ever seen her, even more than before. “I can't believe it! We're some of the only people to have seen one! We're so lucky!”

Harper held his hips and stood straighter. “I am shocked myself, yes.”

Roland wanted that thing badly. Its hide was worth hundreds of copper pieces. He held his everlasting eye for coin and wealth back, however; this was no time to cover himself in money. When he got to Warfang, he'd have to start a new hoard, maybe produced via more legal means. He hated the stereotype, but he couldn't deny he was one of those _typical_ dragons that liked a mound of money.

The gem bunny looked away, nibbling on little strands of grass. Its crystals lit up in a rainbow of colours as it consumed one of the mushrooms. Nobody spoke. Total awe fell amongst them.

“What do we do?” Ashlyn broke the quiet. Tris looked at her as if she was crazy.

“What else do we do? We catch it, silly!”

“It will run if we get close. I suggest you leave this to me.” Harper moved his paw towards the pistol by his side, clutching the grip. The gem bunny's floppy ears pricked up and its head jolted towards them. Harper didn't seem able to move any further. “Or... perhaps it knows exactly what I'm doing.”

Tris licked her lips. “Don't worry. I'll do it. It won't suspect a thing.”

She opened her maw. Roland noticed a spark of electricity crackle around her mouth before a bolt of lightning shot through the air. For a second, it seemed like Tris had struck it, but the dwindling flame and charred remains of the grass where it had been told a different story.

The gem bunny had rushed away, quicker than the yellow dragon's element. Its light vanished into the forest, leaving only a trail of glimmering particles behind.

“Darn it!” she said. “I almost had it!”

“Better luck next time,” the cheetah replied, and Roland could see the faintest hint of a smile tracing his mouth. He almost seemed glad that she hadn't killed the bunny, and thankful he hadn't blasted it with a fiery bullet. Roland assumed he didn't want to carry around the extra weight of a couple hundred gemstones. The red dragon wouldn't mind – despite his attraction to wealth, however, he knew money wasn't a priority, not when there were so many other things on his mind.

They continued onward, Harper slashing at thick vines with the broadsword by his hip. Tris' excitement returned quickly when Myrtle delved into a hearty conversation about magic with her. Myrtle's care for magic wasn't as powerful as others, Roland had gathered from previous talks with her, but she paid total attention to every single bit Tris mentioned, even the stuff that didn't matter to either of them, like the element of ice. Ashlyn's head jerked up at the mention, though, and she listened carefully to what she had to say.

Roland, though, quietly kept to himself. The life of the forest, the chatter of his group... No matter what, it was washed away beneath the rising tide of his thoughts.

He really wished he could get his mind off Drevon...

He just wanted to forget. Drevon was gone now. All that stuff in the sewer never mattered. That was then. This was now.

Stuck in the limbo of his past. On and on, he dwelled on it. Yesterday there had always been something new to focus on – for the first time in a while, he'd felt excited to do something – but now used to the alluring depths of the Everlost Forest, his mind came rushing back.

Why was this happening now, and to him? Were the Ancestors punishing him for bringing hurt and trouble to so many? Was this their way of going about it, putting him and others through more trauma than anybody, let alone a child, could ever bear?

He knew he was a tough one. He was holding his cracks together well. He intended to keep it that way.

He just didn't know how much more he could take. He felt like ripping out his own horns and screaming into the dirt sometimes. How many more would have to burn in front of him? How many more holes would be punched into his life?

...No, he couldn't be thinking like that. He had to remain hopeful. No more would be destroyed, no more would die on such a catastrophic level. He wouldn't need to trudge through the black corpses again.

Happy thoughts, Roland. Just keep it inside, bottle it up, let it all settle. Stir it up and it'll just get angrier.

“Move on, Roland... Just _move on already_.”

“Say somethin', Roly?” Myrtle looked back. He looked up and shook his head. Myrtle was holding it all in, too. In fact, he could tell they all were in their own way. Were they hit with the same plague of thoughts as he? Or were they more focused on getting somewhere better than letting it bring them down?

He knew he should've been like that. He was the hopeful one, the one that tried his best to keep everyone happy. Their feelings mattered more than his, obviously. His internal feelings didn't matter. If there was ever conflict, he'd be the one to step in and solve it, even if it was at the cost of himself.

But all this didn't have a solution. He felt useless, purposeless.

That wasn't true, he tried to tell himself. Myrtle was far happier with him around. Maybe just being there was enough for now...

Maybe... he didn't have to do anything. Maybe he deserved a rest.

They needed to get to Warfang first anyway. Once they were there, finally he could lay down and slumber for hours and hours. Everyone deserved that, at the very least.

This forest had shown itself to be oppressive. He felt that maybe it would've just been better to stay in Midrun after all. But... his group had wanted to go to Warfang.

He was following without purpose, unlike the others, a broken link hanging by a thread of iron. He hadn't considered his own feelings much. What did he want out of Warfang?

No, that had never mattered. He was going with his friends. He felt like he was doing a good job keeping them all in high spirits. Ashlyn seemed happier now in spite of the conflict, Tris held her head higher than she had before, Harper's seriousness was now jaded ever so slightly, and Myrtle was happy he was _there_ , the only friend she had left from Firemore. Without him, this group wouldn't be together.

Everyone looked a lot happier than him. But why didn't he feel that way? He should've felt accomplished, yet all he had was a lurking sadness in the back of his mind, a wall of stone built brick by brick, sealing his feelings away from the others.

But that didn't matter. As long as they were happy he could be happy, right? That was how it worked...

“Then why don't I feel that way?”

His voice was so low, a mere breath that nobody could hear. Nobody needed to hear him. He was better off not telling them and ruining their joy. The very thought of doing so was selfish.

“Roland, you look pretty down...” Ashlyn whispered from beside him, low so nobody could hear, her face laced with concern. “Is... Is everything alright?”

He gave her a wide grin. “Just in thought,” he murmured back. “Nothing to worry about, Ash.”

She knew there was more. He could tell. And just like him with everyone else, she was determined to get to the bottom of it. Although, Roland guessed she had an inkling as to what it was. Her quiet, subtle nature brought with it a level of focus and perception.

“Y-you can talk to me.” She gave him a small smile. “I won't tell–”

“Nothing's wrong. I'm fine.”

“Roland, please–”

“ _Nothing,_ ” he repeated. He grew irritated. It was for the best that she leave it. “End of story. Zilch. I'm fine.”

A frown settled on her brow and her mouth twitched with her annoyance – she had the same desire to get answers as him – but she held it back for him. Good, he thought. This was for the best, greater for all of them. Sure, it made him sound like a hypocrite, wanting answers but not dishing them out himself, but... better to tell a white lie than to concern and vex them all.

“I-I just want to help, Roland, like you've helped me.”

“There is _nothing_ I need help with.” His voice nearly rose above a whisper. Thankfully, the others hadn't heard him. He and Ashlyn were beginning to straggle behind. “I am okay. Alright?”

“Rol–”

“ _Alright_?”

Ashlyn opened her mouth – the fuse of her temper was burning away, at the end of its line – but she didn't speak again. A harsh breath left her maw and she cast her eyes elsewhere, letting them fall upon the lifechains above, gently swinging in the breeze slipping through dim holes in the canopy. He didn't need her getting involved in his feelings. She didn't need to be dealing with those, too. She was already going through enough as it was.

He didn't think well of himself for his growing aggression, even if it was necessary. He turned to utter an apology, but she probably would've ended up asking him about his downward spiral of thoughts again, so he thought better of it.

Hours and hours of notions swirled through the depths of his brain, rooting in his sorrow. Even the wonder of the fungi and the darkness couldn't draw him away from his thoughts. He tried to start a new conversation with Ashlyn about any plans she had for Warfang when they got there, but it didn't go far. At the least, it seemed to get her mind off the irritation he'd caused her.

He just wished Drevon was here with him. If he was alive... then maybe the red dragon wouldn't be thinking like this. He'd be far happier, despite the deaths of the sewer thieves, despite the trauma shoved atop him. Part of his hope remained, but much was left to peter out and die like the rest of his life. Drevon hadn't been lying earlier. He'd wanted that...

If he was _just alive,_ Roland would stop at nothing to get to him. He didn't care what the world thought of the purple dragon; Drevon was no monster. The monster was only slumbering inside him, dark aether conquering the mind of a young drake.

Roland rubbed his glistening eyes and moved on.

* * *

Harper lifted the hat off his head, eyes fixed on the dreadwing in a strange mix of contempt and nonchalance. His mouth twitched and his rifle was clutched against his stomach, in front of his folded legs. Roland sensed his tensity, noticed his constant glances back and forth, and wondered why. Sure, Fluffy was a monster – shadowspawn, as Harper had called him – and could strike fear into others with no more than a magical shriek, but Fluffy was also kind to Roland and his companions, even the cheetah, and that paralysing fear it struck others with now seemed to have no effect on them. Perhaps it was a lingering fear that Fluffy wouldn't obey the commands of the one he'd called master and tear them apart. Roland wasn't sure otherwise.

The way Harper held that E.F. tore away Roland's ease, but the cheetah wouldn't do something so rash and horrible, would he? Harper was far more reasonable than that. Then again, fear tossed reason to the wayside, left it broken and irrecoverable...

No, he knew these constant negligible duels he held inside himself were usually unfounded. Harper would never do that.

Yet another question he could solve, though. Ashlyn and Tris were out gathering a meal for them – they'd been speaking to each other about their own magical ability; Tris had said something about teaching her something new. Myrtle was off practising the earth pillar the electric dragoness had tutored her on. Everybody was busy with something except for him and Harper, so why not ask the cat about it now?

Roland wandered over, tightening the scarf around his neck. It had a habit of coming loose. Maybe he wasn't tying Seth's gift properly.

Harper glanced at him, then back to the dreadwing. “Don't fret, Roland. I'm already aware of what you're going to ask.”

“You are?”

“I'm not planning on shooting the dreadwing. I see the way you have been watching me.”

“That... wasn't really my question, but that's good to know at the very least.” He laughed softly. At least those obscure, unreasonable worries could cease. “I'm just curious... What makes you hate Fluffy so much?”

“That thing is a _monster_.” Harper's reply was instant, without even a moment of hesitation. His soft tone vanished for the strong layer beneath. “I am curious myself over what makes you trust such a thing, especially after what we saw in the market square.”

“Fluffy isn't like _them_ , though...” Roland knew there was no convincing Harper about this, but his need to try persisted. Maybe he could somehow leave an impact. “He's actually nice. He listens to me and wants to protect me. I'm sure if you returned the favour he'd snuggle with you, too. I mean, he _does_ stink, but once you get past that, he's super lovable and–”

“I think it's all a misunderstanding.” Harper stood up, putting the rifle away. “Somebody sent that thing after you for reasons I can't figure out, and I'm sure it wasn't for good intentions. A person sent those other dreadwings we saw, you know. They all had necklaces as well, each with a name carved into their stone tags. Somebody owned them.”

“But...” Roland wasn't sure how to argue. Harper only continued.

“They were after you and I have no clue why. They would stop at nothing to get to you. They didn't paralyse you with fear because they wanted _you_.”

That could be the only explanation to his immunity to their fear blasting. They were able to direct their magic at a target. That was why his friends weren't affected anymore.

“I've wondered if _you_ had any idea why they're after you...” Harper finished, his tone once again quiet, a claw to his chin. “But you don't seem to have any clue at all.”

“No, I don't,” Roland said. “That's mostly why I keep Fluffy around, to figure out why he wanted me and wants to protect me. He doesn't even seem to be taking me anywhere. He's just... here, guarding me, following my orders. I wonder why that is.”

“And that is why I haven't been telling you to rid yourself of it.” Harper explained with a frown. “This is nonsensical. Something is not right here; I can feel it. I don't trust it, and if it does anything rash I will put it down, but, for now, I am waiting to see what it does and why it might want you. I have a feeling the purple dragon is responsible somehow...”

“I'm sure Fluffy has no ill intentions, Harper. He hasn't done anything to you. Try to get along with him at the very least.”

Harper leaned down, closer than Roland expected, his frown deepening.

“One of those things took my son, Roland. I am mistrustful for a reason.”

And then Harper left with no more than a huff, moving to the path the others had taken. Roland's eyes met the floor as an instant pang of stupidity hit him square in the chest.

How had he not seen that? Of course Harper didn't trust the dreadwing, and he never would! There was nothing Roland could do to change that. The red dragon wasn't sure if he could trust his own perception any longer.

But how he hated having problems left unchecked...

He tried to swallow that down for now. He really did feel worthless sometimes. There was nothing he could do to change this for the better. Acceptance was so hard.

They got moving again later when the others came back. He was glad to see Tris and Ashlyn having a conversation about magic. Ashlyn's nature kept her from becoming excited, but he could tell she was truly invested in whatever the electric dragoness had to say – something about an 'ice stream' that Ashlyn had yet to learn. He was even happier to see a meal waiting for him on their backs. They'd managed quite the catch, some furred woodland beast with overly large ears that Roland didn't recognise, along with a pouch full of mushrooms again.

They sliced the meat into rough cubes and plopped them on thin sticks found on the forest floor, then roasted them over an open flame, making a sort of kebab Roland was eager to wrap his jaws around. He'd noted that a lot of the meat he'd tried while out here tasted the same, a lot like the primary meat of the Dragon Realms, piggle. Though, this tasted more wild in a sense. It was tougher and stringy leftovers got caught between his fangs, not as tender as the piggle he was used to; enjoyable all the same, however. He didn't mind the way he was eating at all.

The meal brought him back up again before they continued and he was able to manage a smile. He called Fluffy over, wiped his maw with his scarf, and they all got moving after Harper stamped out the campfire.

They delved deeper and deeper, and the Everlost Forest seemed never-ending. He was once again captivated by its beauty. Strangely, the forest changed as they entered new areas, and he noticed all the minute details between each shift in scenery. Trees where the roots launched out of the ground, forming brown, earthy rings over the soil, some his clumsy feet tripped over – Ashlyn asked if he was okay every damn time. There were long stringy vines in another section, web-like in appearance, with little spiders crawling across them, a unique hivemind of arachnids working together – Harper didn't dare cut through them, or he would feel the wrath of thousands of venomous creatures. Another part where the forest seemed to glow brighter and the colours differed from the blues he'd become accustomed to – Tris pointed out the rainbow of colour, and Myrtle told another story about how all of the mushrooms were the elemental souls of dragons. It was her worst one yet.

But something remained constant. The lifechains that Ashlyn had been so fixed on were always there. And the further they walked, the closer they grew together, until they were in big bunches of light like natural chandeliers. He turned to ask why, though he guessed it was just another weird thing about the dark depths of the Everlost Forest.

And while he wasn't exactly wrong about that, the next thing he found was far stranger – and far more beautiful – than he foresaw.

A tree, old and gnarled, thousands of dragons tall, stood in a massive clearing before them. Lifechains hung from branches high and low, millions of them, dotting the bark with specks of azure light. Harper continued walking, but everyone else stopped at once. He spun around with his mouth open, probably to usher them over, but he noticed their total awe.

“Ah, the Eldertree. Quite magnificent, isn't it?”

He quietly went on, leaving the others to their astonishment. It was a full minute before a word was uttered.

“I'll be damned...” Myrtle whispered, surveying the tree with staggered eyes. It rose far above, further than they could see, fogged by the black. White clawed creatures swung amongst enormous vines and onto strangely artificial platforms carved into the trunk, curiosity piqued by these new arrivals, before returning to their place in the gloom. “By the Ancestors' _balls_ , it's _huge_...”

Everybody broke out of their trance for a second to stare at Myrtle before returning their attention to the tree. Roland didn't pay her much mind, though. Rightfully so, she was amazed by the Eldertree just like him. He couldn't believe his eyes. Out of all the books he'd read, none had mentioned a tree that touched the plane of the Ancestors and lived with the stars.

They headed down the hillside, brushing low-hanging vines out of their way. Wind rustled through leaves like a hide of bristles. The clacking, shifting, squeaking of tiny animals filled the dome of foliage they lay beneath. Roland had never felt insignificant in front of something before, but the Eldertree and its army of glowing eyes intimidated him, made him feel minute and unimportant.

Tris was the first to lift a paw and touch the bark of the tree, and Myrtle followed her lead. The green dragoness closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

“I feel... different.” Myrtle's voice didn't rise above a murmur, but Roland heard her loud and clear. Here she would be in tune with her element, at the point where nature and earth radiated strongest. At least, he assumed that was the case.

Meanwhile, Tris was grinning at her. “I've heard a tale or two about this place. This feels familiar to you, right?”

“...Yeah.” Myrtle was quiet, listening to the tree. She drew her paw away, peering deep into the bark above. “I can feel somethin' in there, inside the tree. I've felt a bit strange just bein' inside the forest, but it's strongest right here.”

“I wrote about this a long time ago when I was passing through,” Harper's tone came forth, his back to the tree's wooden skin. “I feel that too, being a cheetah, though probably not as strongly as you, Myrtle. This is where that feeling begins for me. It's as though something is calling out to me, but I'm not certain as to what. Peculiar, I will say.”

Roland looked between them, felt the tree, and nothing came to him. He felt at peace, though that was it. Sometimes he did wish he had an element, just so he could understand. Ashlyn didn't seem to be able to decipher it either, however, her befuddlement clear.

“I've read books that say this is where all the earth spirits gather.” Tris walked over to one of the platforms at the base of the trunk and sat down. She studied the spiral design carved into the surface of each. “This tree is their gateway to the afterlife, and those lifechains hold the spirits waiting to be allowed entry.”

“Oh... really?” Myrtle turned to her, brow furrowed.

“Yeah. That might be why you feel so connected to this place. It's a bit grim, though.”

“I see...” Myrtle cast her head downwards, her muzzle twitching, but soon enough she was back up and grinning again. “Hey, sounds like it would make for a nice _spooky_ story.”

“ _Another_ one?” Roland asked, cringing at the mention. Myrtle winked. “Please no...”

“I know your taste in stories is shit, Roly,” Myrtle said, shrugging, “but you just ain't seein' the _bigger_ _picture_.”

“If Roland's taste is bad, then why did you say you were taking cues from him?” Tris was straight-faced, but it was obvious she was trying to keep herself from laughing. Myrtle opened her mouth, blinked a couple times, and said no more. “I would actually like to see your writing one day, Roland. Harper's told me it's surprisingly good.”

“I would, but... the paper's probably all crispy now.” He was still annoyed over that. He'd have to start everything again. However, he took that as best he could. That just meant he could start jotting down a better tale with the experience he'd gained from previous projects. In his opinion, the golden dragoness he wrote about was too cliched and done before anyway, and he'd have a better chance of being published one day with a new idea.

“Anyhow,” Harper began, “this is where we will be staying for the night. We'll set up over there.” He directed their attention to an open spot where the grass was as low as their paws and sticks were already bundled, ready to be set ablaze. It lay quite the walking distance away from the Eldertree, almost on the edge of the clearing. He wondered how Harper had managed to set up and get back so quickly. “We've had our fun, but we shouldn't wander like this. Tomorrow we should be about halfway through these woods.”

“Good to know,” Myrtle said. “These feelings are cool and all, but I still hate this place.”

“Yes, I'm not particularly fond of the Everlost Forest, either.” The group moved to the spot where Harper had set up the sticks for their campfire. “I assume it's the monsters lurking in the shadows? Staying on the path will keep them away from us, but that eerie feeling of being followed...”

“Heh... you could say that.”

Roland relaxed his spine against a soft tree shadowing the clump of timber. The short, pointed spines lining his back dug into wooden flesh. “Wow, Myrtle. You're _scared_?”

“I'll hit you with an earth pillar if you don't shut up, lanky.” Myrtle leaned forward. Threateningly, she summoned a trace of green that whizzed around her mouth and vanished where it'd begun. “Mark my words.”

Roland let his newfound nerves out in a chuckle.

“Your words are marked.” He looked at Fluffy, then to the rest of the group. The dreadwing was ready for a meal, as were they all. He felt bad for Fluffy, who hadn't exactly received many proper meals in comparison to the rest of them. He was waiting for the moment the dreadwing would start complaining. “Anyway... who's hunting?”

“I'll do it,” Ashlyn immediately chimed in, jumping to her paws. She had this excited look about her. “Do you want to come with me, Tris?”

“Of course!” Tris smirked.

Harper nodded, silent, and pointed to a new gravel path that started beyond the Eldertree, winding further into the deep belly of Everlost.

“Okie dokie. Let's go and try that ice stream, Ash.”

It was a good hour that they were gone. Roland had settled behind the tree overlooking the campfire and was watching them all with his head turned. Harper had this worrisome look on his face the whole time, his mind probably thinking foreboding thoughts, yet they were only using the time they had to practice magic. Ashlyn was especially cheerful when she jogged back, conversing with Tris. Seemed she'd made a friend in the yellow dragoness, and that delighted Roland. If only she could make friends with Myrtle, too...

He had to wonder: what would Tris do if she found out about the things Ashlyn and her father brought around? Her life had crumbled too, and even though she did well to focus on the future, she would at the very least miss Firemore. Would she blame Ashlyn? Would she tell Harper? What then?

Would Ashlyn's feet give way unto the pit of misery she'd only just managed to step across?

They could keep it a secret, though. The only person he was worried about letting something slip was Myrtle, but he trusted her enough to keep her mouth closed. For the sake of Ashlyn, they couldn't tell her.

He could live with the way they were getting along now. They chattered about mana and the elements, and smiled and laughed. It was great to see.

He also noted Myrtle's occasional glances and the uncomfortable look on her face. She was trying to chat with Harper, but their conversation didn't exactly lead anywhere. Maybe he should've been over there, keeping her occupied when confused, worried thoughts were probably rolling through her head at miles a second. But what could he even say to stop them?

Fluffy tramped over, his head tilted and his monstrous features twisted into concern. His main focus was on Roland, but his gleaming yellow eyes averted every now and then, to the great tree standing proud behind him. The dreadwing's flat snout twitched like the gem bunny's, and his legs quivered as if he knew something were inside. Could Fluffy feel those elements, too?

Or maybe Fluffy just wanted out of this forest.

“It's okay, bud,” Roland whispered and placed his paw on Fluffy's neck. “We'll be out of here soon.”

But Fluffy whined and stamped in place, and Roland knew he'd seen that same action before, when the monster beyond the light had frightened them all.

“It won't get us,” he said. “It won't go beyond the dark. It's just trying to coax us out. But we'll be fine if we ignore it. Harper said so.”

Fluffy didn't seem convinced and Roland knew there was nothing he could do. If he'd seen the beast like the dreadwing had, he might've even felt the same way.

“Just try not to think about it, Fluffy. I'm here for you. I just wonder why you're here for me.”

He didn't look happy about that, as if he wished he could speak and tell him. Roland sighed.

“Hopefully I'll find out sooner rather than later...”

* * *

Roland awoke as soon as he felt grass brushing beneath his cheek. He latched onto the ground in a vain endeavour to find the monster he'd called his pillow, but the dreadwing was nowhere to be seen, not with his heavy, blurred eyes.

The red dragon lifted himself from his side. “F-Fluffy?”

The dreadwing didn't answer him. Roland lifted himself up, deciding it best to try and look for him. He padded to a pond a few metres from the tree he'd slumbered behind and washed the sleep from his eyes.

Roland almost moved on, but he was suddenly struck by his appearance. He peered into his rippling reflection and called his search for Fluffy off for a moment while he inspected himself.

Since Firemore, he'd started looking a lot better. He was still that same mucky red dragon, but the cuts had cleared and the vertical slice through his right eye had faded to the point it was barely noticeable, at least not in the shine of the fungi. The two fangs that'd been knocked out of his skull weren't going to come back, but he did notice an odd improvement; his once attenuated figure had thickened. Myrtle was still right to call him lanky, but he could no longer see his rib cage beneath his chest.

Had he really not been eating that well before? He'd barely even noticed the lack of food he'd once consumed, and no one had really mentioned how sickly he looked. This journey had him eating consistent meals everyday, and with about a week of travelling having passed, he was already looking much better. Still thin, almost feminine in his form, no longer starved and skeletal.

He even stopped to admire himself, striking a little pose. He found he was a bit put off by how he did look now, though. Dirt smeared into the cracks between his scales, his messy head of frills... Maybe... Maybe being known as the smelly dragon wasn't in his cards anymore. He wondered if Harper had soap. The cheetah always kept himself clean somehow; he wasn't afraid to admit that a pleasant, fruity aroma lingered wherever the cheetah stood.

Roland shook his head. He was getting off track. He could have a quick look through Harper's rucksack later, but for now he had a pillow to find.

He sneaked past the others and walked the three minute journey towards the Eldertree first, the very centre of the glade. He'd be able to see everything from there. He followed the mushrooms along the ground, looking to the lifechains lying dormant high above, leaves crunching beneath his feet. He looked out from where he was, but Fluffy wasn't within his cone of vision.

“W-what are you doing here?”

At first he thought that was directed at him, but there was nobody to look at. Myrtle's voice came from beyond the tree, around the other side. He put his head against the tree and listened to what she was saying. A low coo came shortly after and he immediately recognised the tone of the dreadwing.

“Well... fine, but you gotta be quiet, alright?”

He wondered what she was doing, but was he supposed to know? She sounded... distressed, in a way. He wasn't sure how to describe it. And why had Fluffy left him?

He wanted to leave... but his curiosity kept him from going anywhere. He felt horrible for that, but he had an urge to know if something was wrong and if he could help her rid herself of the problem.

As much as it pained him to listen behind her back, his desire to help was too strong. Wrong, but he had good intentions.

“Where do I even start?” she asked herself. “She said all the earth spirits gather here. Can I even talk to you?”

Roland studied his paws. He knew this wasn't something he was supposed to listen to, definitely not. If she hadn't told him, despite the two of them being good friends, then she probably wasn't willing to let anyone know. This was a total invasion of privacy. He thought it best to leave and turned away, without Fluffy in tow.

“Don't worry, Roly. I know you're there. I can... _feel_ you through the ground and the tree.”

Roland jerked upright. So in tune with her element, she could feel his very presence through the earth. He should've suspected it, but now that he'd been caught red-pawed, he couldn't help but hang his head and walk around the trunk.

He found Myrtle with her back to the tree, her eyes to the sky, tiny rays of moonlight spearing through the canopy cast overhead. Fluffy lifted his head for a second, but his focus remained on Myrtle.

“I... Sorry, Myrtle,” he said. “I was just looking for Fluffy and then I heard you, and I couldn't really help it. I just wanted to know if something was up.”

“Don't worry,” she replied. “Nothin' wrong with me. I was just tryin' to talk to somebody, but... Well, it's pretty damn stupid, honestly. Dunno what I was thinkin'.

She smiled in that usual 'Myrtle' sort of way, treating it like some big old joke. But he knew there was more to it than that, and he wanted to know if there was anything she'd actually tell him now that he was here.

“Who?” he voiced.

Myrtle shrugged. “Eh, just an old friend. Knew him all the way back when I lived in the Shattered Vale. We had some good times together, but he's not with me anymore. If I'm over here, I guess ya can put two and two together.”

He nodded. She wasn't fazed in the slightest. She looked almost as though she didn't care, but that couldn't be right if she was coming over here to speak with him.

“You've never really told me about any of that stuff, back when you lived there.” He set himself down next to her. Fluffy shadowed the two dragons with his larger wingspan. “Who was this friend?”

“His name was Corwin,” she responded. “Reminded me of myself. We were basically a spittin' image of each other. He... Well, he practically raised me.”

She had a mother, that Roland knew of, but he could assume from her words that she had a similar sort of situation to him. Seth had brought him up when he ran from home, having been sick of all the arguing.

“Why weren't you with your mum?” he asked. He was edging on personal territory, he could tell. His inquisitive nature pushed him further, though, no matter how bad he felt about it.

“Heh, well, uh...” Her smirk lost a lot of its curl, and then she parted her maw. “I... Well, let's just say she didn't really want me, Roland. I wasn't a good kid. Deserved it, really.”

“Kicked out?” he asked. She waited a moment before slowly nodding her head.

“Yeah. I wasn't the child she wanted. Got caught up in spirit gems and stuff, I did, and I still am. She didn't like that a single bit...”

She fell silent for a time, and Roland, for once, wasn't sure what to say. He couldn't exactly help with a situation like this, something totally out of reach.

Myrtle let out a soft sigh and then looked up at him again, the smile back. “Sorry, gettin' off track. I guess I should tell you why I hate this place.”

“It's more than just being scared, I guess,” he said. Myrtle nodded.

“Yeah. Me and Cor left the Shattered Vale together and we went all the way across the continent. We were gonna stop at Firemore. Honestly, the journey was kinda fun. We did a lot together. He taught me how to steal, how to hunt, all that stuff. Really good times... I do miss them.”

“And... then something happened?” he continued for her.

Myrtle bowed her head. “Yeah... We got to the Everlost Forest. Got lost, couldn't find our way out. I had a feeling we were going in circles. The pair of us didn't know all the stories about how you'll never find your way out if you don't follow the path.”

She leaned her head back, passing yet another breath.

“Wasn't a monster we found. Bandits that came from the Dustlands, lost inside the forest themselves. We had a lot of spirit gems on us and they attacked us on sight. That's how I got this scar–” She pointed to the horizontal slash across her eyes “–and... and how I lost Cor. He held 'em off for me and I managed to get away, but he died fighting 'em.”

“I... I'm really sorry, Myrtle.” There wasn't much more he could say. What else could he do? There was nothing and that annoyed him to no end. Myrtle, however, continued to smile.

“It's 'kay. Happened a long time ago.” She snickered despite herself. “This whole 'talk to him' thing is stupid anyway. I'm just an idiot. Of course I can't, like... commune with the dead or anything.”

Roland shrugged. “I get it, though. You miss him.”

“Yeah... I wish he was still here.” Myrtle sighed and then stood. She patted him on the back with her wing. “You would've loved him. You love me and we were practically the same.”

“ _Love_ is putting it a bit strongly, dirt-breath.” He chuckled. Fluffy still watched Myrtle with concern, but his eyes now seemed to flicker over the tree, as if studying the grooves in the bark. The dreadwing stood on his hind legs and pressed his wings against the Eldertree's skin, then raked a talon down the surface.

Roland frowned at the dreadwing's abnormal behaviour. “Fluffy?”

“What's it doing?” she asked. Roland wasn't sure how to answer. He put a paw to Fluffy's side.

“You okay, bud?” Fluffy turned to him and then quickly back to the tree. Roland cocked his head. “I'm... not sure what you mean.”

The dreadwing fell to all fours once again. His mouth moved and sounds came forth, but they made no sense, at least not in his tongue. Clearly something about the tree had taken the dreadwing's interest, though.

“We need a translator.” Myrtle chuckled slightly. “Oh well. Let's go to bed. I'm sure it's nothin'. It's probably just all the earth energy in there.”

“I'm not quite sure about that, but maybe something did just startle him.” Roland pressed his paw against the Eldertree. “I just wish I could tell what Fluffy means. I really do need a translator.”

“C'mon, Roly.” Myrtle draped her wing over his back and gently urged him forward. “Let's leave it. Us kids need our sleep.”

Fluffy was still whining by the time they got back to the campfire, but he left it alone after Roland told him to shush so he could sleep again. Roland was unsure whether Fluffy's actions meant anything or not – the last times Fluffy had been trying to get his attention, it had been over something important or dangerous to them – but how was he supposed to interpret the dreadwing's whines and snorts this time? Fluffy had directed him to nothing but the Eldertree.

He decided to leave it and maybe investigate the tree tomorrow. It wasn't worth his time at the moment. He was too tired to bother.

Roland closed his eyes and fell asleep atop a quivering Fluffy.


	22. Bright Eyes

Bright Eyes

Roland's eyes flickered open to a whining Fluffy. The campfire still danced with embers; he reached into his satchel and pulled out his pocket watch. He held it to the fungi and squinted at its thin hands, realising it'd been hardly an hour since his conversation with Myrtle.

"Oh, Fluffy..." He pushed harder into the dreadwing's stomach. He rolled his head back and peered into Fluffy's upside-down face. "What _now_?"

Fluffy nodded at the Eldertree. Roland let his frustration out in a long groan.

"In the _morning_... Ancestors, bud. Let me get some sleep."

But the dreadwing wasn't having any of it. He rolled onto his side and Roland tumbled off, landing in the grass with a pained grunt. He didn't get up; he just stared at Fluffy as if he was insane. At times he wished Fluffy did get sleep instead of staying up all night. Sure, having that extra person on watch was great and all, but he couldn't deal with being woken up all the time by his worrywart of a pet.

Fluffy bent down, wetting Roland's face with his forked tongue. Roland pushed the beast's head away and rolled to his feet with a sigh, wiping off the monster's drool.

"For fuck's sake... Fine." He stuck a claw in the dreadwing's face. "But no more. Seriously, bud. I _need_ to sleep. I know you shadowspawn apparently don't need it, but you can at _least_ be a little more considerate."

Roland wasn't bothered to check if Fluffy nodded or not. As soon as he got moving, the dreadwing leaped in front of him and fluttered over to the tree. The red dragon followed, hunched and his mood soured. He noted Tris was on watch, but she was staring the other way, her gaze set on the metallic replica of a paw she'd constructed. She didn't heed his presence.

The dreadwing stopped at the base of the tree, up on his hind legs like before. He raked at bark with his talons and curved horns, flat face pressed against the Eldertree. Roland watched for a moment, but considered waiting a waste of his time and peered at the lifechains and fungi for amusement. He felt calmed by the stars in paw's reach and the thin cerulean rays they cast.

His eyes fell upon Fluffy again, who had moved an ample distance around the tree, only his left eye visible around the other side. In spite of enervation tugging vigorously at his eyes, Roland was too curious over Fluffy's puzzling search to draw the dreadwing back to the campfire. He followed the beast around the tree for minutes. Fluffy scratched at the bark, took a slight step around, and then repeated his actions over and over, until he started tapping on the wood as well.

"Fluffy... What are you doing?" Roland finally asked when they were halfway around the Eldertree. The dreadwing didn't listen, too invested in this fruitless quest to find whatever his attention had been snared by. Roland waited grumpily for his oversized cushion to give up on his silly endeavours.

And then there was a knock on the bark as though it were the door to a desolate chamber. Roland jerked his head up – Fluffy's legs were locked in place. Roland frowned, thinking perhaps part of the tree had been hollowed about by the animals. They did seem smarter than the average critter; there were carvings everywhere and artificial platforms sculpted into the tree, like the basis of some primitive society. But he was curious as to how they'd gotten in. He hadn't seen an entrance anywhere. Maybe it was higher up.

Fluffy hadn't made a noise, the side of his head flat against the tree's skin. Roland awaited the dreadwing's next course of action. He wasn't prepared for it.

Fluffy drew his head back and slammed his horned cranium into the bark. Thick wood shattered with a crack. Splinters showered Roland's scales and he coughed on the sawdust.

He looked up, waving the wood particles away, and was baffled, first at the dreadwing's bizarre decision and then at the opening created. At first he foresaw a hole teeming with life, animals scurrying away at the sign of an intruder. What he saw instead was the beginning of a spiralling staircase within the walls of the tree. The Eldertree was but the hollow skeleton of a colossus.

He wandered inside with the dreadwing; Fluffy seemed unfazed, as if he'd known this had been here the whole time. The tree echoed with footsteps that reverberated across the walls until they reached the top. Lifechains came in clusters, spheres of light growing and crawling across the tree's flesh. A pillar of timber stood in the centre and coiled around it was the start of the long, natural staircase.

"What have you found, Fluffy?" Roland rubbed his eyes to make sure what he was seeing was truly there. They weren't deceiving him. Yet more secrets of the forest was uncovered. Roland wandered over to the staircase and looked beyond the pillar: only an unending flight of stairs concealed by the black he'd grown accustomed to.

He turned his head to the dreadwing, who had already started walking up the steps.

"Wait, Fluffy..." He threw a wing up, but Fluffy didn't listen and went on, almost as though he didn't want to pay Roland's question any mind.

Roland wet his maw. He had the urge to go back and tell the others of this discovery, but he couldn't leave the dreadwing alone right now, not in these woods, and definitely not in this tree. Maybe they'd heard the crack and would come rushing over, but he wasn't sure because of the Eldertree's distance from their encampment.

His curiosity was getting the better of him anyway. He didn't exactly want to awaken the others, either, and Fluffy would probably drag him back by the scruff of the neck at this point if he went anywhere other than up. He could show them all the dreadwing's discovery in the morning. For now, Roland jogged forward and bounced up the steps in twos in an attempt to catch up.

Fluffy ignored his presence, looking away all moody-like. Roland knew firsthand that Fluffy's discoveries were never to be taken lightly. He'd been wrong to blatantly ignore that this was important. He hung his head and let out a sigh. He'd been far too harsh on his beastly companion.

He looked up at him. Fluffy didn't cast him his gaze at all like he usually did. The emotion of this monstrous creature had never been difficult to discern, dragon-like in the way his face contorted into different feelings. And, right now, that frown and those clenched fangs made Roland feel worse by the moment.

"I'm sorry, bud," he let out. He didn't get even a groan in response. Silence was all this shrieking, noisy monster would permit from his maw. "Oh, c'mon, Fluffy... I know I was a dick, but you're making me feel like the scum of the Realms."

The dreadwing's snort was harsh. He turned his head. Roland exhaled.

"I shouldn't ignore you, period. You're trying to help and protect me. You want to make sure I know what's going on. It was very wrong to treat you the way I did. Please, Fluffy..."

Still no answer. Roland was almost glaring at this point.

"I'll give you my next meal if you talk to me."

And, of course, the dreadwing twisted around with his tongue hanging from his jaws. His throat produced something equivalent to a hearty bark. It was strange seeing such a hideous beast let that out.

Roland smirked. "Attaboy. I do feel really bad, though. I just wonder what you've found..."

He felt as if he'd stumbled into somebody's house; he was already a trespasser under these shadows. Who would live in this tree, however? Unless it'd long since been abandoned? Perhaps it was the doing of these animals, but how creatures were intelligent enough to form a clean, solid structure like this was beyond him. Rough platforms, maybe. A huge spiralling staircase, though? The Everlost Forest was home to many a new secret.

The carvings here were more present than they were outside, and not just in those spirals either. Lines carved into bark, straight and jagged, forming pictures, scenes he didn't understand, backlit by blue hues like water flowing through cracks. He thought he saw horns and wings, like those of dragons, and upon further inspection realised their front legs were missing. These dragons stood and walked on their legs and wings.

He knew they were not dragons but instead wyverns. And this seemed to have once been a place of residence for them, one of the only pieces of their civilisation left, or at least that's what he assumed. He wasn't sure of that fact. Wyvern artefacts and civilisation – the only pieces that still remained anyway – weren't like this. From speculation alone, he pictured towering buildings made of black and grey stone, with jagged edges and old weaponry abound. Why would they inhabit the inside of a tree?

Maybe this place was dedicated to their own worship somehow. The wyverns wouldn't construct something like this, so maybe other creatures had done it. Nobody could be sure, though. He had questions that he knew would remain unanswered for all time.

Why was the entrance sealed up in the first place? Yet another thing he didn't think he would find answers for.

He and Fluffy had been the first to locate this structure and that wasn't surprising considering that not many walked through the Everlost Forest. The small army sent from Midrun would've been one of the very few groups to pass through in years. He had to wonder why _they_ didn't take the boats around, though. Maybe they had to take a stop on the way to Warfang at Scaletooth, the mountain town set on high cliffs a short distance beyond the woods, to gather more troops. There would be nowhere to dock a ship there for miles and miles. They probably could've sent one of their messenger hawks to carry the message to Scaletooth, but he guessed it would be easier to explain the situation in person.

Well, the situation that didn't exist anymore...

He got that out of his mind and focused on the tower at paw. The oddity of this situation filled him with more inquisition than ever before. The stairs never seemed to end; round and round the pillar they spiralled, ascending into the heavens. He hadn't been able to see the top of the tree when he was outside. How far did it go? How did a tree of this scale survive without its organs? Who were these wyverns to create such things, structures utterly impossible?

There had to be explanation waiting for him at the top. He couldn't go without another. His mind brewed a growing broth swimming with questions, at the point of boiling over.

The stairs, gently lit by the blue carvings, came to an abrupt end. Roland realised as soon as he lifted his leg on instinct and stumbled forward, thankfully caught by Fluffy's wing before he could fall. The red dragon brushed the monster's leathery limb away, his eyes on the tree's ceiling.

Roland entered the chamber before him. The walls were high, covered in sprawling vines like veins that snaked around clusters of spirit gems, pumping a liquid as viscous as tree sap through the room. Old parchments and scrolls lined shelves carved out of the tree itself, torn and worn, and what resembled a desk was snapped in half, devoured in the tangle of flora. Lifechains hung from the ceiling, but they took on the colour of the glowing liquid pulsing through the vines, a soft translucent green. Stood in the centre was a raised, circular container. Faint wisps of green light rose and withered away from within.

Roland stepped forward and climbed the gentle slope towards the container, Fluffy joining him on his right, ignoring the other room he glimpsed on his left, the doorway covered in vines. He looked within and found a pool of murky water, as if stained a deep green by moss, rippling like someone was dipping a claw within. He'd only ever seen something like it once, on the singular occasion he'd been to the dragon temple in Firemore. This was a pool of visions, an ancient tool used by dragons to see glimpses into the future. Being a highly magical race, dragons were susceptible to visions; he'd had one of his own not long ago. This pool allowed them to be interpreted easily, or so those experienced with it said. He'd never been able to gather anything from one.

He was distracted from his thoughts by a sound, familiar. It hadn't been long since he'd heard it last.

 _Ka-thump_.

He turned to the other room. Fluffy's entire body jolted in the direction of the sound. Hesitantly, Roland paced over. He slashed the weak vines away with his dull tail blade. Green liquid oozed out of the severed ends like blood from a wound. He held himself back from entering the room, knowing full well what had happened last time he'd heard that sound.

He poked his head around the corner. In a thin, glowing chamber covered in spirit gems was the egg he'd been suspecting, a throbbing green sac holding another body like a wyvern. Fluffy cowered by Roland, his composure broken by the mere sight of it.

 _Ka-thump_.

The wind screamed. A ragged curtain hanging by mere threads at the end of the room flapped in the breeze. Thin, shattered bark rolled along the ground, deriving from a hole recently blast into the tree. He could feel the magic laced in the air, thick and powerful.

Atop the new windowsill stood a hornless black dragon, bright eyes casting beams of light into the dark.

Roland's heart just about stopped.

"D-Drevon..."

Roland parted his mouth, too shocked to move anything else, to say any more. Drevon stood stiff, clouded eyes peering into a black as deep as himself.

 _Ka-thump_.

Drevon lifted ebony wings. Roland's eyes widened. He shot around the corner, uncaring for the egg before him. Fluffy's screech echoed across the Eldertree. Paws were scampering behind him.

"Drevon! Wait!"

The purple dragon fell from the tree and shot through the air, disappearing without a trace. Roland rushed towards the windowsill. The egg thumped hard.

" _Drevon_!"

And as soon as he got too close, it exploded in a blinding wash of white, and Roland felt himself leave reality for the third time.

* * *

" _Now_ this _is what I'm talkin' about."_

_Roland scrunched his nose up. "You're happy about this, Myrtle? You can't smell that? What even is that!?"_

" _This is where nostrils go to die, Roly," Myrtle replied in that same joking tone she always did. "This is what we call a sewer."_

" _What's a sewer?"_

" _It's where all your shit goes," Seth elaborated, his voice dry and humourless. He seated himself on the long stone walkway, one of two held within one of the many massive pipes beneath Firemore. "It all comes down here and then it slowly moves down the pipeline through that river down there until it falls into the ocean."_

 _Roland couldn't believe this. He'd prefer the streets to living in these pipes! Seth was really suggesting they go_ here _?_

" _Why this place?" Drevon, who'd been waiting behind Roland, spoke up. It'd been around a month since they'd met the young purple dragon. Roland thought him shy and his sister even more so, and that was still the case much of the time – they both kept to each other a lot – but they had started opening up. Roland would go as far as to say they were fitting in._

" _Because this place is hidden. Nobody will find us down here. We'll only have to worry about the people doing maintenance, but it's easy enough to hide from them." Seth dropped his satchel on the ground and rustled through its contents. Green gemstones were pulled from within, dull and uncut. Roland asked why he'd desired weaker spirit gems and Seth had said something about the risk of crystallisation and gem burn being lower. He wasn't sure what he needed them for, though._

" _This place is awesome!" Carolin chimed in, unexpected from someone like her. Her green scales shone and the stubby horns atop her head glimmered in the sunlight from the outside, where the ocean lay an open maw before them. At least Roland knew he could get out for a breather if he couldn't deal with this stench. But he didn't want to stay here anyway!_

" _Stop lookin' so damn sour, Roland." Myrtle clapped him on the back with a wing. He narrowed his eyes. "You're like a bloody lemon."_

" _I dunno about you, Myrtle, but I don't wanna live in my own crap!"_

" _Neither do I," Seth told him. "But this is the best we've got. I know the Dragon Realms aren't harsh towards children that commit crimes, but we need to stay hidden, just in case. I'm not sure about you, Roland, but I don't exactly want to be caught by the guard and returned to my mum... or that bloody orphanage for that matter."_

_Everybody else nodded in agreement. Roland parted his maw, but could only let his defeat out in a sigh. "...Okay, you have a point. I'm still not happy about the stink, though."_

" _I'm sure you'll get used to it." Seth let a smirk play along his muzzle. "It's this way or no way."_

_Roland wasn't sure he would. That stench burning away at his nostrils like some kind of acid... He'd make sure he'd go outside as much as possible just to get away from it._

_He didn't have much of a choice in this matter. This was better than going home. He couldn't go there now, not after his mother..._

_This would be better for him. This was his home now._

* * *

" _C'mon, Drevon! Grab my paw!"_

_Drevon, heavy sack by his side, reached through the shattered window, grabbing Roland's outstretched paw. The red dragon heaved him and the heavy bag through and onto the balcony outside. His friend wiped the sweat lacing his brow and Roland took one side of the bag, crouching down in preparation to flee from the scene._

" _Get the hell back here!" the deep voice from within the building boomed. The lights inside flickered on and two pairs of legs came stomping up the stairwell. "Stop!"_

" _L-let's go!" the purple dragon told him, voice shaky. "On three! O-one, two..._ three _!"_

_The pair of thieves leaped onto the stone railing, dove towards the street, and carried their momentum into the air. They shot through the arch of a short bridge crossing Firemore a level higher, and the victim's tone faded with the wind howling in their ear holes._

_Roland, his breath coming in ragged pants, looked to the purple dragon with a huge grin. They'd done it yet again. The Red Rodent and the unseen purple terror, once more with victory literally in their grasp. Their sack was brimming with copper; Roland thought he heard a few coins ring as they hit the ground, but it didn't matter. They had more than what they'd come for._

_It took Roland a while to notice that Drevon wasn't smiling, his face obscured by the dark. His shadowed eyes were to the ground and, while stable in the air, the flaps of his wings were weak. He had a paw clutched to his side._

" _Drevon?" Roland asked over the wind. "You okay?"_

" _Y-y-yeah." He nodded. "I-I'm... I'm fine."_

_Roland peered harder into that dark spot beneath the pad of Drevon's paw. Purple mixed with vile red, scarlet droplets slipping through the cracks between his toes and sprinkling against the stone path like dewdrops. Roland just about ground to a halt in the air._

" _Y-you're bleeding!" the red dragon said. Looking closer, he could see the angry gash beneath his paw. If anything, it was no minor injury._

" _I'm fine, bud, rea–"_

" _No." Roland started slowing, and with the bag gripped in both of their paws, Drevon had to follow suit. "We're landing. C'mon."_

_Drevon didn't argue further. They descended upon Firemore again and ducked into a secluded alleyway, dropping the bag and letting its contents spill all over the ground. Roland followed a limping Drevon towards the high stone wall and stopped as he turned around and fell against the wall, his stomach exposed._

_It was worse than Roland thought it had been. His whole side was stained crimson, and the blood wasn't stopping. Drevon's face was paling and his eyes were in a half-squint, breath slow. Somehow this eleven-year-old managed to hold himself together in spite of the obvious agony._

_Roland couldn't help but stare in disbelief. It'd all gone wrong. Drevon was looking into his eyes, pain and despair in his own. "I... I don't... f-feel so good."_

" _H-hang on, Drevon..." Roland panicked as he fumbled with the button on his small satchel. He drew a glimmering red gemstone from within and held it out for Drevon. "Take this."_

_Drevon reached out and took it from his paws. "W-what do I do...?"_

" _Crush it in your paws." Roland's heart hammered. Drevon was going to be fine, but anxiety conquered his system anyway. "Seth taught me."_

" _S-S-Seth?" Drevon uttered, as if the name was taboo. "I..."_

" _D-do it!" Roland urged. "Before you pass out!"_

_Drevon looked at the red gemstone with what seemed like trepidation, then flexed his paw. The gemstone disintegrated. Little red particles darted from between his toes and shot towards the bleeding slash. Roland watched as the wound sealed over with new scales in nearly an instant, and the horrible red stopped flowing over Drevon's body. Drevon, shocked by this, put a paw to the visible remnants of the injury he'd sustained, but cringed in pain before he could exclaim his surprise._

_Roland breathed a huge sigh of relief. He was so terribly thankful for having the way into the element-locked vault and having the intelligence to bring healing gemstones just in case something like this happened. Drevon could've very easily dropped from the sky if they'd kept going... or worse._

" _What happened?" Drevon questioned. "I... W-where did the cut go?"_

" _I'm surprised you've never used a spirit gem." Roland managed a soft chuckle. Drevon was too in awe to smile. "It's almost like you've never been hurt before."_

" _Well, I... I never really had a chance to get hurt, honestly." The purple dragon shrugged. "Anyway, the pain's almost gone. How does that even work?"_

" _I dunno. Magic." Roland grinned. This time Drevon returned it. "How did you get the cut? Did that guy get you, or...?"_

" _On the window," he nonchalantly explained. "The shattered glass got me when you pulled me through. I'm surprised I held myself together so well."_

_Roland recoiled from the mention of that. That could've gone a whole lot worse for him. And not only that. Roland had caused it with his recklessness. "I... S-sorry, I didn't mean to–"_

" _No, no, totally fine," Drevon laughed. Roland wasn't so sure. He could've killed him if he hadn't recognised the injury. They'd barely been friends together now, and he could've ended that so easily..._

_Drevon cocked his head. Even his young mind realised what was going through the red dragon's head._

_The purple dragon got up with his paw clutched to his stomach. He wavered as if drunk, exhausted after losing so much blood. Drevon walked over with a paw outstretched. He placed it atop Roland's shoulder; Roland averted his gaze._

" _It's fine, bud," Drevon began. "It was an honest mistake. I know how bad this could've gone, but it didn't because you stopped me. In fact, I could've just about killed myself if you didn't force me down. So maybe you did hurt me pretty bad, but you saved my hide, too. It's not like you meant to do it anyway, and I also could've been more careful around the glass."_

_Roland exhaled. He guessed the young dragon was right. Just a little mistake. Nothing to worry about, really._

" _Alright." Roland grinned. He moved to the purple dragon's side and wrapped a wing around him. "We should go, though. And you look way too tired to go by yourself, or fly for that matter."_

_Drevon, face pale and legs shaking, couldn't agree more. They moved through the alleyway and stopped at the sack of copper. "Yeah, but... what about the bag? You can't carry it by yourself."_

" _Forget it." Roland shrugged. "You're more important right now."_

_The purple dragon opened his mouth, but no words came through. For a second Roland thought he'd said something wrong, but then a thin smile split Drevon's muzzle._

" _Thanks, bud. It means a lot."_

_Roland nodded his head and moved on, leaving the sack of copper for some other lucky soul to find. They could probably use the money more than that rich freak anyway._

_They turned onto the street and followed the lights back. It was going to be a long walk through the night, but Roland could deal with that._

_He was helping a friend out and that was all that mattered._

* * *

Roland shot to his feet, a paw clasped against his heart. He stumbled into a wall and pushed his whole body against it, breath coming in uneven gasps. The Eldertree swirled with a bleary blue, and something wet oozed down his nostrils.

He stood still with his eyes closed for a few seconds, and then everything returned to normal. He fell to his hindquarters with his foot to the wall.

"W-what is that?" he asked himself. This was his third time experiencing it. What was this magic that knocked him into unconsciousness and drew blood from his nose? Why had he seen everything through a tint of blue? Why was he seeing things from the past?

Fluffy stopped behind him. Roland turned to look at his whimpering, worrying friend, and wondered what made him so special, to tame a dreadwing and experience events like these. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the orange gemstones again, dissolving.

And then, beyond that, the form of a yellow dragoness standing in the doorway to the room he'd found Drevon in.

He spun around, looked at Tris, and didn't know what to say to her. What had she seen? Had she seen Drevon? Did she know he was the purple dragon?

The answer was disheartening.

"I... I saw everything, Roland." Tris was perfectly still. She didn't move a muscle. "The... That egg. The magic. The purple dragon... I heard you shout his name."

He put his paws on his head. She'd followed him into the tree and was probably the only person who'd heard the timber explode.

"Drevon... Is that his name?"

She'd seen it all. There was no point in lying to her anymore. If he did, he was sure she would tell Harper what she'd seen. And what then? After the conversation he'd had with Harper yesterday about his distrust for dreadwings, Roland couldn't trust him with that kind of information. But what if she said something anyway?

There was only one way to find out. There was nothing else he could do. He nodded his head.

"I-I know you've been hiding something from me," the yellow dragoness continued. "You three all have. And I... I was fine with that. I guessed there had been an argument between the other two and that's why you were all so tense. But now that I know the purple dragon is involved... I-I don't want to be deceived anymore. I want the truth."

He could understand. Tris took a step closer.

"Can you tell me what's going on?" she asked. "Why you're all not talking to each other? Why Firemore's gone? That's... That's all I wanna know."

Roland got off the ground and brushed off his sides. He looked up at Fluffy, then back to the dragoness before him. Fluffy was shivering, but he stood by Roland in protection anyway. "It's... a long story, Tris, but I'll try my best to keep it concise."

It all started with Ashlyn joining their guild of thieves under the guise that she was another willing thief. Trusting and naïve, they'd let an assassin into their ranks. She'd seemed fine at first, a little timid, but that was all. And that was when the blue dragon murdered Carolin, one of their youngest and the purple dragon's sister, for a plot developed by the Guardians in Warfang.

His already breaking best friend snapped and destroyed everything; Firemore and all their lives. Roland had blamed it all on the ice dragoness at first, but after he listened to her story of horrible abuse and manipulation, and was able to relate to it himself, he managed to let that notion go after simply watching her try to be good. She'd never wanted any of it and had constantly berated herself for it, despite nearly all of the blame falling upon her father.

Myrtle had never been able to forgive the ice dragoness, which Roland was able to understand, but she'd explained she would tolerate her and not say anything. He'd promised not to say a word about it, too. He'd had no choice but to break it now.

Tris, silent for the whole five minutes it took, lowered her head. Her paws were clenched against the ground. No reaction. Roland's heart hammered.

She lifted her eyes again. "What about him? Fluffy? And that egg?"

"Those are things I don't know." Roland sighed. "Things I really wanna figure out. I swear, I have absolutely no idea."

Tris nodded. Roland awaited judgement. What would she do? Would she feel the same as Myrtle? Worse?

She'd lost just about everything too. She was just like him. If Roland wasn't scared for Ashlyn now, he would be terrified for himself.

Tris wet her mouth. Her words were shocking to hear.

"I... I understand."

She... understood?

"It's all so... so far-fetched, but it makes sense. The way you've all been acting, how secretive you've been. That's what Ashlyn's been miserable about, what Myrtle's been grumpy about, and what you've been so worried about."

"Y-you can leave if you want." Roland wasn't able to meet her gaze. "Just... Please don't do anything to Ashlyn. Sh-she doesn't deserve it. She's already had it rough enough..."

"Why would I do anything to her?"

Roland frowned. Puzzlement broke through his apprehension. "You're not mad?"

"Well, I mean..." She shrugged. "I... I wish it hadn't gone this way. And Ashlyn did play a part in that. I miss home. But... like you said, she's not the one I should be blaming, and she's trying to do better now. It's her father and... and the _Guardians_. I'm... I don't know what to say. Hearing they were the ones who wanted this..."

Roland couldn't believe what he was hearing. His anxiety had shot through the roof over either her or Harper finding out, but it was suddenly all fine. "You... You actually understand?"

"I'm not really fond of all the lying you did, but... yeah. Clearly, you were really good friends with Drevon. Harper tells me all about how he's a monster, but... he was just another normal dragon, wasn't he?"

"That he was." Roland sighed. For seconds, Roland had seen him there in the flesh, and now he was gone yet again. But at least he knew that Drevon hadn't gone through with what he was planning. The black monster had gotten to him first. It was strange to think, but he was almost thankful it had broken through and stopped him. "Now he's got this corrupt parasite pumping darkness into him like he's some kind of vessel. I thought he was dead after he told me he was gonna... well, _end it_. But he's still around."

"Things happen, I guess..." Tris managed a small smile. Roland sat down and breathed sharply through his nostrils. "Are you doing okay, Roland? I know how hard this must be on you."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about me. I'm more worried about everyone else. All of you are taking this pretty well, I think, but I can't be sure..." He was happy Tris had been willing to listen and understand at least. Fluffy leaned down beside him, falling onto his big stomach, his head flopping on the floor next to him. Roland petted the dreadwing's head with his paw, then wiped the blood from beneath his nose again.

The lithe dragoness walked forward and seated herself in front of him. "That reminds me. I have another question."

"Shoot."

"Do you know what all that orange crystal stuff is?" Tris reached down and picked one of the leftover fragments up. They were so small now, their amber glow fading with the dark. It was only now that Roland noticed the darkness was growing; the fluid running through the egg's veins had dulled. The tendrils were black and lifeless, and the walls of the tree almost looked charred. Roland touched the Eldertree and found it was rotting. Had the egg been the thing keeping this place alive? He could only imagine the outside.

"I'm not sure. I've had it happen three times. I get knocked out by something, and then I wake up with my vision tinted blue and orange crystals everywhere."

"You summoned a giant crystal around your whole body before that egg exploded," she uttered. Roland frowned. "These fragments came from you."

He couldn't understand. He'd summoned a crystal? The fragments came from _him_? He hadn't seen any of this.

Then again, he sort of was unconscious when it happened.

"How did I summon a crystal?" Roland asked. He thought there was no easy answer to that question, but Tris came at him yet again with unexpected dialogue.

"None of this should be possible, not for _you_. But... I guess it would explain your lack of an element."

Once more, he couldn't comprehend what she was saying.

"I mean, you _do_ have an element, I should say. It's just not what you expect."

He looked at her as if she'd gone mad. Him? An element? He hadn't had one for a long time. Why would he suddenly have one now?

"You really don't understand, do you?" she asked. Her grin was growing. Roland shook his head. "Before the Night of Eternal Darkness around five hundred years ago, Spyro fought the ape leader, Gaul, in combat. The Mountain of Malefor collapsed after that, with Spyro inside. He stopped the mountain from crushing him by using a fury that summoned a giant orange crystal around him and his friends. And that's exactly what _you_ have done here, Roland, just on a smaller scale. Does it make sense yet?"

He was speechless. Tris took his silence as a no.

"Roland... You're a time dragon."

* * *

Roland waited for Harper and Myrtle to return from their morning hunting trip. He was sat staring at the Eldertree, the rot starting to spread, and he couldn't get the events of the night before out of his head. He actually had an element, and not just anything normal either. He was special. That was something he didn't like.

He'd never felt it there before. All the others had known they'd had an element all their lives; even as young kids it had been down there, patiently waiting for the point it could be used. They could feel the mana lingering inside their bodies, swirling in the potenthalus. But he hadn't felt a thing there for all his life. He'd always felt so empty. He _still did_.

He tried writing it off as an error on Tristana's part, confirming he could control time just as the purple dragons could. He denied its existence entirely. He couldn't even control it himself. It just happened on its own! But all evidence pointed to that being the case. He wasn't excited, not like Tris. He wasn't even happy.

He was confused.

Why him? Why, of all people, did the Ancestors choose him, a greedy, undeserving little drake, to control such a gift?

Why couldn't he feel it there like the others? Why couldn't he use it?

Why was he _different_?

Yet more and more questions bogged down the laden pile like storm clouds in his mind.

"Uh... Earth to Roland?"

He brought his eyes up and met Tris'. Sheepishness tugged at his features; he'd been trying to talk to her and Ashlyn before but had been caught in his labyrinth of a brain.

"S-sorry," he muttered. "What were you saying?"

"We were just talking about what we were doing last night." Tris' gaze met Ashlyn's. The ice dragoness had seemed shocked all had been revealed to the electric dragon, and she gave Roland quite a lot of her worry, but when Tris explained it was okay, she managed to calm down. Roland had apologised to her for breaking his word, but at the very least Ashlyn was willing to accept it considering he had no options in the situation.

Myrtle mentioned the feeling of earth energy around her had diminished, but she hadn't heard the news yet for she was out with Harper. They fortunately hadn't seen the slight discolouration of the tree, or the crevice smashed into it on the opposite side of their campsite. They could tell her when she got back. Harper, though... Roland wasn't sure if they could say anything to him. After the last conversation they had, the red dragon wasn't sure if they could trust Harper with that information. The cheetah already blamed the purple dragon for the passing of his son. The only reason he was set on figuring out why Fluffy was following Roland was because of that.

The way Harper linked things up in his mind was wrong. But Roland was sure the blame would pass onto himself, and then what the cheetah would do was up for debate. Harper was a generally polite and calm individual, but if he had thoughts any of these troubles were to do with Roland or Myrtle...

Roland thought that maybe he was going a little far with that one. He knew he couldn't say anything to the cheetah, though, and the others agreed with him in that notion.

When they spoke of Roland's time powers, Ashlyn was certainly shocked, but she hadn't much to add. Roland expressed his irritation over not having answers and the others didn't have much to say on that, either, other than Tris saying she was excited to learn more of it.

After the others came back, they ate their breakfast of charred piggle in silence and got a move on. Tris tried to start a conversation with him about the discovery of his powers when they were a ways behind the others, but he wasn't in the mood for it.

He was sick of questions without answers. _Totally_ sick of them. And he had a feeling they were just going to keep piling on.

He hated that more than anything in the world.


	23. Monsters in the Dark

Monsters in the Dark

Everybody was silent. Roland had spoken to Myrtle previously about the events that had transpired inside the Eldertree – she'd been obviously shocked to hear about Drevon – but now that the conversation had withered away, Roland didn't utter another word.

Tris had been excited by the prospect of him having his very own unique element, but she chose to leave him to his thoughts. Ashlyn could tell he was contemplating recent circumstances and knew it was best if she left him to his own devices. Myrtle had tried to say a few things to lighten the mood between them all, though she was very clearly too immersed within the depths of her own mind to keep it going. Harper probably knew something was up, but he didn't speak his mind. He probably preferred the quiet while they travelled anyway.

Roland couldn't believe what he'd seen. Truly, he'd thought Drevon had gone and done it, but that couldn't be any more false. He was still alive, still kicking, only with his mind once again terrorised by the shadowy beast brewing inside.

Maybe if he could find him again he could convince him out of the state, just like he had before. Roland was sure he could do it again. Drevon would listen to his best friend. He wouldn't hurt his best friend...

Roland considered it for a moment. He wasn't so sure when he thought about it. Drevon didn't even listen to him in the Eldertree, like he couldn't hear him. Maybe the screaming wind sealed the sound of the red dragon's cries. Perhaps the darkness purged the voice from his mind. Only Drevon knew, and Roland didn't think he would be getting an answer.

But Roland knew he had to try. He had to find Drevon again. He needed to stop the purple dragon before more damage was done. The only question was where in the Dragon Realms would he even find him? Or, worse yet, where in the _world_? Where would Drevon go next?

For now, all Roland could do was follow his friends and pray to the Ancestors above that he would be able to find Drevon along the way and cure him of his rotten disease. He didn't know how he would do that... but he would. He _would_ , if it was the very last thing he did. Drevon needed him.

"Uh... You're falling behind a little bit, Roland."

He lifted his eyes to the face of Ashlyn. The others were more than ten paces away and his thoughts were slowing him down. Those eyes of hers studied him with that same aura of concern they always did.

"Well, you are, too." He managed a little smirk.

"I slowed down because I noticed you were." She joined him at his side. "You need to keep up with the others. I do understand, though." She lowered her voice to a murmur. "Things are... really weird right now. Now Tris knows and there's all these eggs and apparently you can summon _time crystals_ or something like that... and Drevon's back, too."

He sped the pace up. Fluffy was right behind him watching his back, so he was sure he wasn't in a great deal of danger, but keeping to the group was far safer than lingering behind like he and his dreadwing had been.

"I won't ask what's wrong," she continued. "Y-you don't like it when I ask. But it's pretty easy to tell what you're thinking about. I am here to listen if you want to talk..."

"Don't worry about me. I'm feeling fine," he said. "I'm just thinking about what's coming next. About what I saw. Drevon, that egg... everything. I'm confused as to what's going on and I'm trying to figure it out. I don't have answers and that annoys me."

"Yeah, I know exactly how you feel." Ashlyn shrugged. "Unfortunately, I don't think we'll be getting many answers until we can get Drevon back..."

"You're gonna help me?" He frowned. Sure, she felt as though she had a debt to repay to him, but he fully expected her to stop at Warfang once they got there. Roland wasn't even sure if the end of his journey around the Dragon Realms would come to a close there anymore. He needed to find the purple dragon. Life as he knew it could come to an abrupt end with the dark parasite running rampant.

Maybe that was being too dramatic. But after what he'd witnessed in Firemore – the destruction, the seared bodies – he couldn't take any chances. If what Harper said about those _eaters_ was true, and Drevon had something to do with them, like it'd seemed...

"I need to help you," Ashlyn answered. "That's what you want to do, right? You want to get Drevon back?"

"Of course, I just... don't really think I'm gonna be able to stop in Warfang now. I'm gonna have to keep going." He cocked his head. "I don't expect you to follow me after that. You can stay in Warfang. That's what you want, right?"

"What kind of person would I be if I _did_ stay?" she asked. Roland opened his maw, but she was too quick to the punch. "You've been an amazing friend. Somehow, we've known each other for less than a month and you're so nice to me, in spite of everything that's happened. The least I can do is help you out by finding him and the answers to all of our questions."

"You really don't have to. It's all good." Roland wanted to deny he'd done anything truly amazing. He'd just been himself. That was all. But Ashlyn wouldn't have any of it.

"No, I do. If you can help me like you have, I should do the same for you." A rare glint of confidence shimmered in her eyes. "I'm with you, Roland."

He wasn't certain how to respond. For her, though, it seemed the smile tugging at his mouth was enough.

"W-well, I..." He stroked his grubby frills. Despite the winter chill and his scarf doing barely anything to prevent his shivers, he felt a warmth fill his body. "Heh. Thanks, I guess."

"Th-there's no need for thank yous!" She grinned. "Anyway, I am a little curious about this time stuff. I-I mean, Tris _is_ the master and she could probably give you better answers than me, but what have you got on your mind?"

"So many things..." He'd do anything for a few answers right now. "I dunno how you can help. Mostly I've just been wondering why I can summon orange crystals out of thin air. Why do I have this power?"

"Other than saying it's some amazing coincidence and you're one of a kind, I don't know," she responded. He knew her answer wouldn't provide him with knowledge beyond his own, but he was disappointed to hear it anyway.

"Oh well..." He reached into the front pocket of his satchel to find the small package of honey-glazed jerky he'd been keeping since he'd robbed that avaricious mole behind the stand in Midrun. He pulled a piece out for Ashlyn. "Jerky?"

"I totally forgot you even had that..." She giggled and helped herself to it.

"We're stopping!" Harper called before Roland could shove a piece into his mouth. He popped the stolen food away and headed over.

They all came to a halt beneath a large mushroom. The cheetah cleaned his broadsword of golden tree sap and spider silk hanging in strands from the tip. Roland had noticed the variety of arachnids in this part of the forest, some with their backs painted red like they constantly bled, others with legs twice as long and thin as their button-like bodies. It was an arachnophobe's worst nightmare in here, but he found them entertaining to watch, leaping about the trees weaving homes and traps. He was fascinated, though he tried not to get close. Those things could probably kill him with a single bite. No spirit gem could heal venom.

They stayed the night next to the gravel path and got a move on after breakfast in the morning. This time their journey wasn't as silent; the unusual quiet from Myrtle had vanished in favour of another of her spooky tales, this time about _blood spiders_ , inspired by the arachnids he'd seen _._ Roland pressed the pad of his paw against his forehead. He had no doubt she was doing this ironically now for the sole reason of irritating them all. But... he was glad to hear conversation amongst them once more. Tris finally admitted how silly Myrtle's stories were, and Roland could hear the blatant embarrassment in Myrtle's stuttered replies over the electric dragon's laughter.

He was still shocked Tris had understood everything. She acted as though she hadn't listened to him at all last night. Had she that same understanding as he, or was she hiding the real truth from him for his sake? He wanted to accept the former. Maybe she saw where Ashlyn was coming from, seen how sorry the ice dragoness was for the things she'd played a part in. She had told him she'd noticed how miserable Ashlyn was...

He thought about it over the course of the next night, but couldn't find a good answer. He noticed something about Harper's demeanour, however. Something about him wasn't quite right; Roland wasn't sure if he usually hid his paws in his pockets and walked in a slouch. He worried for a moment that Tris might've let something slip, but her behaviour was totally normal. He assumed it was something else, then.

Maybe he'd started taking notice of everybody else and their behaviour. The veil of secrecy upon them all was easy to perceive. Harper already knew something was going on, that Roland was sure of. Perhaps he didn't enjoy having no answers to his questions, either.

Roland wanted to tell him and fix that... but he couldn't. Truthfully, he was scared of what the cheetah could do and probably would do if he knew. Nobody had spoken to him much since the red dragon had talked to Tris about the truth of the city they'd once held dear. Maybe the others felt the same way.

He couldn't be sure, though. Roland decided to shake his head and press on. He could focus on getting out of the Everlost Forest first before any of this.

* * *

This was their last night in the forest – at least, that was what Harper told them all. By the middle of the day tomorrow, they'd be nearing the outskirts. Roland pictured the sun finally breaking through the canopy and being able to fly again. That was probably the first thing he would do as soon as he got out. He'd been missing his wings. It was far too dangerous in the dark, with stray branches and creatures probably awaiting prey above.

Harper set their camp up in silence a short walk away from a huge ravine rushing with water, the Edwin in all its pride. Roland had seen it a few times before, in thin streams and rivers flowing and winding across from the path, but that was where the bulk of the water remained; those had only been the great chasm's veins. Falling in would be certain death, if not from drowning, then from smashing your skull on the pointed rocks protruding from the rapids. Roland made a clear note in his head to not go near it, just in case.

The red dragon shivered. The unrelenting chill was picking up; winter had finally revealed its full force. Everybody else could sleep this night. They either had a gut topped with warming mana or a hide of thick fur, and the fire added to that. Not him, though. Even being nestled into Fluffy's wing, camped around the fire, wasn't enough for Roland. He wished he, too, could feel that mana.

Why couldn't he? Tris said he had an element. Why would this work differently? Why couldn't he feel the flow of mana down there at all? He had an ability. An ability he couldn't control, sure, but he had one!

What made him so unique? He loathed that question – he hated feeling different. But there was no changing it now. There was nothing he could do about being special. It was ingrained into his very being.

The worst part was always having nobody to answer him. If the Ancestors could find a way to respond...

Like tiny fangs, the cold bit at his scales, and he leaned into Fluffy. The dreadwing's throat vibrated with a low, tender sound. Tufts of hair brushed against Roland's nostrils and he was reminded of what Fluffy reeked of. He couldn't describe the stink.

Worse yet, Roland probably smelt just as bad being this close to the dreadwing all the time. How did the others even deal with him and his dreadwing? Ashlyn was the cleanest of them all and he never saw anything like disgust twitch on her expression. It definitely wasn't a nice smell.

Maybe they were all used to it, too. Or maybe they were trying to be polite...

He felt he'd be doing them and himself a huge favour if he washed up a little. Fluffy could use it as well. A shallow stream lined with luminous mushrooms wound around their clearing and towards the expansive chasm a couple minutes away, and a small pool of water was hidden behind the trees not far from him. He could head out and bathe right now while everybody was asleep, the only exception being Tris, who was behind the thick tree ahead of him keeping watch for them all. He assumed she hadn't moved away from her post.

He only needed a few spirit gems to warm that water up, which he had in his satchel... and that soap Harper used. The cheetah was on the ground a few paces from him, baggy eyes closed, his mouth parted; usually Harper was alert, even in his rest, so much so to the point Roland thought he didn't even rest sometimes. But exhaustion had finally clubbed him over the head, and he was truly out of it. Without a second thought, he put a claw to his mouth to keep the dreadwing quiet – thankfully, Fluffy knew the gesture and kept his muzzle zipped when Roland climbed out of his grasp.

It wasn't hard to find and Roland's experience in the art of thievery paid off. He pulled a small glass bottle from a buckled pouch on the front of the rucksack. A tube ran down the centre of the transparent container, connected to a pump at the top that would dispense the blue gelatinous substance contained within. The small writing wrapped around the bottle spoke of 'amazing fur quality,' but he was sure it would work perfectly on scales, too.

Maybe he should've asked if he could borrow it from Harper. He felt a bit weird stealing this, but everybody would appreciate it in the end. Harper would never know it'd ever been used after he slipped it back into his rucksack.

He hesitated before leaving. Harper hadn't been in a good mood. What if he found out? What if his anger bubbled over and hit the red dragon with the force of a tsunami? What if...

No, he was worrying too much. Harper wasn't _that_ aggressive. Maybe he'd even appreciate the better hygiene.

With that, Roland crouched low in the grass and sneaked away, issuing Fluffy over to the stream when he was sure nobody had been stirred from their slumber.

Concealed by a thick layer of trees was this vein of the Edwin. Radiant fungi grew in muddied dirt that snaked along the edge of a natural bowl in the river. Moss-like plants grew from the bottom and made the water's surface ripple. Roland ducked beneath a tangled vine and brought Fluffy closer. The dreadwing's head was cocked at nearly a ninety-degree angle. Roland chuckled.

"I thought it was time I led you somewhere instead," he said. "To a bath. We both really need one."

Roland thrust his paw into his satchel again and withdrew a few gemstones, apparently the only ones he had left. Confused, he dug further through its contents and the only item left was his pocket watch. Hadn't he any more? Ashlyn had taken quite the hefty amount from that stall in Midrun. He hadn't used a single one yet. He knew he wasn't absorbing them through the satchel. Any dragon would've felt that.

There was only one explanation. Somebody had been taking them and he hadn't been able to feel the weight reducing – spirit gems weren't heavy after all. He had a fair idea of who the culprit was. Myrtle, of course, had been snatching gemstones right from under his nose, probably while he'd been asleep.

He shook his head in worry. He hadn't thought about or took note of the crystallisation in her wings for a while, and stealing all his red gemstones probably wasn't doing her any favours. He'd have to talk to her about it.

At the same time, he didn't want to make her upset, though. She was very touchy about the subject, and that had been proven back in Firemore when he'd discovered she was the thief taking the gems from their vault. She was aware of the things that could happen to her if she kept on going, but she couldn't force herself to stop. It was too difficult for her.

But they needed those spirit gems. Everyone else had crystals on them in case of emergency – as long as Myrtle hadn't been stealing from them, too – but they couldn't be wasting valuable resources on her addiction, especially ones that could be the difference between life and death if their situation got particularly ugly.

For now, however, he had a bath to take. He forwent the spirit gems and dropped them into his satchel. It would be a waste to use them on this water anyway. They couldn't heat the Edwin on their own.

It wasn't as freezing as he thought it would be, thankfully. Something was heating the water, and he assumed it was those tiny hollow rocks in the bottom pushing hot air up from underground. It was so relaxing, in fact, that he totally lost track of time.

he'd cleaned himself up and given Fluffy a good scrub (the dreadwing didn't complain when it came to what was practically a massage), he let himself loosen up and adjusted his position so his back was to the smooth rock on the pond's walls. Those stressed bones slackened and he felt those knots in his muscles unfurl. He spread his wingspan and hovered on the bowl's surface.

He hadn't had a chance to relax like this for so long now. Even sleep made him tense. This, though... He'd always wanted to return to this. And the world let him have it. The cold calmed for but a moment to give him time to unwind. The breeze, crisp and invigorating, wafted beneath his wings and over his face. He expelled a breath, relaxed by groups of chirping insects and the unpronounced bubble of the stream as it swam towards the gaping ravine ahead.

The best part was that the stench had vanished. He leaned his head back and allowed the water to meditate his mind and soul. Even Fluffy didn't make a sound, like he'd been needing this, too.

Roland's reverie was broken when the grass rustled and something punched the water with a low splash. He froze for a moment, thinking somebody had suddenly joined him in the water, but there was nobody to be seen. He ducked his head into the rippling pond and searched for the source of the disturbance.

He brushed the underwater forest away and wrapped his paws around something thin and metallic. Fluffy stared at him in curiosity. Befuddlement hit him in an instant.

It was Tristana's mechanism, the unfinished replica of a dragon's paw. It must've fallen off the bank. She'd probably left it there when she'd bathed earlier. He decided this find marked the end of his bath. He couldn't spend too long out here and risk Harper waking up anyhow.

He grabbed the edge of the pool and lifted his head over the bank, but the sight in the corner of his eyes stopped him. Tracks in the mud, two pairs of hasty dragon paws racing into the darkness. At first he was confused. And then he started to agonise over the problem.

Tris' mechanism out here, and paw tracks leading directly into the gloom of the Everlost Forest? Had she... run into the dark? But why in the name of the Ancestors would she do that? That was suicide!

No, this had to be some sort of mistake. She was still watching over the others, wasn't she? All signs pointed to her running away, but she would never do something so unreasonable. Right?

He desperately needed to check. She was confident in her own abilities, and Roland didn't doubt them at all, but the forest was deadly. She couldn't have done it...

"We're going now, Fluffy." Roland patted the dreadwing's neck. Fluffy leaped out of the water and awaited his master. The red dragon shoved the bottle of soap and the contraption into his satchel and hurried back to their encampment.

Quickly and quietly, just in case he was mistaken and Tris hadn't blindly rushed off into the black, he slipped the soap back into Harper's rucksack and slithered past Ashlyn and Myrtle to the tree Tris had been sitting behind. He poked his head around the corner.

She wasn't there. Of course she wasn't there.

He scanned the glowing clearing with fretful eyes, but there was no sign of her. She... She wouldn't have gone anywhere. She wasn't that rash. Sure, maybe she was excitable, but she had a fucking _brain_...

Roland was wasting time. He knew she'd done it. He didn't know why she had, but she'd actually _done it_. At this point, with all the time he'd spent in the pool, she could already be lost in those woods, or worse.

"Guys, wake up!" he called. He needed to know if they knew of her location. He first noticed Harper, whose eyes shot open. The cheetah leaped to his feet and raised his blade.

"What is it!?" the cheetah's voice came, quick and resolute.

The others rose swiftly after him, both sharing a look of total confusion over their interrupted slumber.

"Have any of you seen Tris?" Roland wiped a paw over his forehead, sweat beading his brow.

Harper frowned and his grip tightened around his broadsword. "No? She was keeping watch for us right there. Did she go for another bath?"

Myrtle and Ashlyn both answered no in unison. Roland's fears were all but confirmed then.

"I found her paw replica near the pool." He drew it out of his satchel. "And... And I saw what I think is her tracks in the mud. I-it looked like she was headed right into the darkness..."

" _What_!?" Harper yelled. The words shocked him to the very core. "She did _what_!?"

"I'm telling the truth!" Roland replied, motioning them over with his wing. He'd already started running back to the pool. Fluffy rushed along without any orders. "C'mon!"

Harper struck his lantern alight as soon as they got there, bent down and found the tracks. He looked up from the path the paws in the mud created, where they faded into the black. Myrtle looked at Roland, and Roland looked at Ashlyn. There was no questioning what they would have to do.

"We're going in," Harper uttered. "Keep close to me, close to the firelight. We'll move as swiftly as we can."

Harper's breath came shakily.

"Ancestors, tell me she's safe..."

* * *

The tracks ended quickly. They wound around the trees and cut a corner, but the mud dispersed in time. They'd been searching for so long now with no sign of the dragoness.

Somehow, Harper knew the path kept going, though. His eyes fell on the trees and the floor, signs where there had been movement. Indistinct marks where claws had scratched the bark, twigs and leaves snapped and broken where they'd been stepped on. They were all signs something had been there, and it was most likely Tristana. Roland actively started looking for them

There were places where the trees had been scorched, the most obvious sign Tris had been around. She'd been trying to attack something, as though hunting it. But what?

It didn't matter. She was out there somewhere, in horrible danger. The lights were sparse now; the only thing carrying Roland forward was the quivering firelight of Harper's lantern and the glowing wisps of earthen energy Myrtle summoned to assist.

Nobody spoke, except for occasionally pointing out the marks. Roland started taking notice of the eyes staring at him, jagged and angered by their presence, glowing whites and yellows and blues. He wasn't supposed to be here. They would've already snatched him up if it weren't for the lantern.

Tris was lucky to get even this far by herself. Further and further she'd gone, and had managed to make it past the monsters. The clues never seemed to end, to the point where Roland wondered if the signs were really of her doing. For long minutes, he was worried they weren't hers and they were following a false trail.

He was only looking for those scorch marks now. And every once in a while, there came another one that led them deeper and deeper through the maze of timber and vine.

They'd been following for so long now that Roland believed she'd already been lost to the monsters. All hope vanished. He and his group could get back – they only needed to follow the trail – but not her. Not by herself. She would've already been snatched by the creatures.

Harper's stubbornness was the only thing pushing the cheetah forward. Her fate was certain, but he pressed on anyway. He needed to see her in the flesh. He had to make sure.

But even though Roland himself had lost hope for her, the burnt wood led them onward. And then it started to grow more frequent. Multiple trees had been struck with her lightning in the same area. She'd grown impatient, clumsy, or desperate, one of the three, to kill whatever it was that her focus and confidence had set her on.

Then he started seeing trees snapped in two, as if they were mere thread. There was no other possible conclusion. A powerful monster had gotten her. That was why her shots became more frantic. Something had braved the light of her ball of electricity and threatened her with brute strength.

Harper's pace quickened. He fully expected them to keep up with him. Roland's breath came in heavy gasps. He didn't have the stamina for this. But he had to keep going. Not only for Tris, but for the fact he would be swallowed by the darkness if he didn't.

Everybody struggled as much as him. They had to do it, though. They needed to find her. Whether she was dead or not, they had to. She might've been his newest friend, but he wasn't going to leave her fate unknown. He'd lost hope in the chance she was alive already, though that tiny, negligible chance still remained. They needed to know.

When he thought the trail would end, it kept on going. He could smell the ash in the air. She'd been here recently. Harper once again sped up, slashing through the vines at a rapid pace. Roland decided to lift into the air and move with his wings. He was too slow on the ground to keep up with the cheetah. The other dragons followed suit.

Over their low murmurs and the sounds of Harper's boots on the forest floor, there was another sound. A cry, a desperate scream. Roland could barely hear it over the wind in his ears, but there was no mistaking what was said.

"Help! _Please_!"

"Tristana!" Harper yelled back. He dashed off quicker than the dragons could fly through the forest. The light vanished with him, and Roland, scared for his life, flew as fast as his wings could carry him after it.

There were footsteps. Heavy thudding, just like he'd heard in his first few days in the forest. Fluffy's calm was shattered in an instant, and the dreadwing screamed out.

Roland soared into a new clearing where the mushrooms didn't grow and darkness reigned over all. Harper skidded to a stop and the other dragons joined him in the lantern's light. They could see Tris cornered against a wall, her face scratched and her body bruised. She didn't seem to be capable of moving her legs.

And slowly meandering towards her, a huge club-like arm raised, was the hulking, earthen form of a troll. It saw the light and turned its mossy head. Those beady red eyes noticed the newcomers. Its gaping maw widened and it bellowed in rage.

Harper nearly dropped his sword at the sight. Roland shook with dread and terror, and Fluffy cowered behind him. Myrtle cursed and Ashlyn almost seemed to scream. The troll forgot Tristana existed and charged at them all with no warning, arms raised.

The ground shuddered with the violent impact and Roland only just managed to step aside. He rolled across the ground, lost track of his companions, and was stopped by the shattered hunk of a tree. Roland pushed himself to his feet, but felt the dreadwing's back legs wrap around his body and pull him into the air.

"Fluffy!" Roland screamed at the dreadwing. "What are you–"

The Dragon Realms shook with the troll's might as it leaped and slammed into the ground where the red dragon had been. Roland shut his mouth and focused on clambering up the dreadwing's stomach and onto his back.

The world swam with elemental power; Myrtle blasted the troll with her earth energy, Ashlyn shot icicles into its stout neck, and Harper pulled the hammer on his pistol and fired rounds in quick succession. The troll didn't seem distracted by them at all; it didn't care for the lights now. It was focused on Roland, or, more realistically, the dreadwing that'd screamed at it days before.

Roland grasped the hair of his beast and let him do the flying. The troll had already been hit by Tris' electricity, its mossy hair and body fastened from roots blackened with soot. It threw a furious rage over its pain and swung wildly from below at the dreadwing that'd caused such fear in it before.

Fluffy clutched onto a tree and Roland hung on with all the strength his meek form could muster. The dreadwing's powerful screech tore through the air and echoed across the clearing. The troll took a hasty step back and groaned in pain, its mind throbbing. It swung a frenzied arm forward. The tree Fluffy had perched on shattered and the dreadwing took off only moments before he could be smacked by the troll's second club of rock.

The troll hunkered down and boomed in infuriation, deciding to thunder towards Roland's group of companions. It put an arm over its eyes and screamed, obstructing the bullets, the magic, and the light. It threw its arms up and brought them down upon his friends. Roland held his breath as they managed to roll out of the way. The red dragon shook with fear.

Fluffy was flying in circles around the clearing. The red dragon looked down, and without a second thought, gripped the hairs more tightly and pulled them in the direction of the troll. It took no further instruction; the dreadwing obeyed his commands and charged at the troll. Roland narrowed his eyes, the wind stinging them.

"Scream, Fluffy!" he shouted, and the dreadwing did as told, blasting the monster with yet another wave of fear. The troll's resolve was once again shattered for a moment; it looked to try and clutch its skull, but only ended up falling on its back as it did so. It struggled to get back to its feet, and Harper took the opportunity when it came.

The old cheetah slammed the blade of his broadsword into the knitted roots of the troll's stomach, and leaped away before it could counterattack. The troll rumbled in agony; a dark, viscous liquid spurted from its intestines. The troll, with its belly fatally slashed, rolled to its feet and cried in pain before rushing away into the darkness, followed by Myrtle and Ashlyn's magic. The trees crumbled in its wake. It disappeared, and the deafening noise of its feet faded with time.

Fluffy landed with a heavy thump. Roland got off, panting for air, and rushed over to his friends. Harper was covered in the troll's blood, and Myrtle and Ashlyn were weary from battle, but they were otherwise fine. They all looked over at Tris, who was bleeding and whimpering on the ground against a stone wall. The five of them rushed over to check on her.

Roland was totally shocked to see her alive, but she wasn't doing well at all. Upon closer inspection, she was covered in scrapes and bruises, her hind legs were broken, and the wall behind her head was stained with her blood. He cringed at the sight of her, imagining himself in that same position, almost like the time back in Firemore. Her eyes swam with tears. She looked barely able to tell Roland and his friends were there for her.

"Spirit gems _now_ ," the cheetah commanded, kneeling and setting the lantern down beside her. Ashlyn eagerly followed and ripped them out of her satchel. Harper snatched them from her outstretched paw and crushed them on the ground next to the yellow dragoness. Fragments sprung off the ground and shot into her more serious wounds, especially the place her skull was bleeding. Myrtle grabbed Tristana's satchel and pulled a few more gems from its depths and Harper took them as swiftly as he had before.

The bleeding stopped, but she still looked out of it. Harper placed his paws on her shoulders to get her attention. She shuddered and whimpered at the touch. Guiltily, he withdrew them.

"Are you alright, Tristana?" the cheetah muttered. Tris shook her head. She was holding her breath, trying not to cry out in pain. "Where does it hurt?"

"A-all over..." she whispered. "I-it hurts... s-so much..."

And that was with spirit gems. They couldn't give her any more, unfortunately. The side effects of overuse could end up being worse than her current injuries.

"Can you stand?" Harper asked.

She put a shaky paw to the ground. Even the tiniest push made her wince, but she managed it. The spirit gems had healed her back paws significantly, but there was still a great deal of pain there. "I... I think so."

Myrtle, who stood over her, bent down, as did Ashlyn. The anxiety was clear in both of their eyes. The green dragoness offered a paw. "I can help ya back. Do you need my wing?"

"Mine, too?" Ashlyn added. Tris looked down at herself and, knowing it was going to be far too difficult on her own, nodded her head. Myrtle and Ashlyn exchanged glances, and for once they seemed to agree on something. Tris must've made a bit of an impression on them both. Despite everything that'd happened, Roland felt a little happiness flow into his system.

He was quivering with adrenaline and fear, but he could at least be happy Tris was bringing them a little closer.

He still desired an answer to why she'd run off. It could wait for now, though. Tris needed rest more than anything. He'd get his answer in due time.

He was glad they'd found her alive. He felt so bad for doubting she was.


	24. Crack of Thunder

Crack of Thunder

Apart from the low sputtering flame, it was dead quiet. Nobody uttered a word. Nobody spoke of the battle they'd fought, the answers they wanted.

Harper placed yet another branch atop the campfire, then returned to his spot next to it. Roland, shivering and exhausted, lay on his side, gazing through the crackling flames at Tris on the other side. She rested peacefully in spite of the stinging cuts, the throbbing muscles, and the pounding headache she'd spoken of. The red dragon desired answers to her bizarre display of recklessness, but if he was being honest, he didn't want to be the one to ask.

She wasn't well, and not just physically. Her mental anguish was evident. She'd been on the verge of bursting into sobs on the way back to the path through the Everlost Forest. Before she'd dozed off, she'd hung her head and hadn't uttered a word since the troll had scarpered and they'd gotten her back. She knew she'd done something horribly wrong and put herself in great danger. If Roland had found her tracks only seconds after he had, she wouldn't have been resting on the opposite side of the campfire right now.

He was glad it hadn't come to that. To think he could've been quicker, though, that he'd spent so long bathing without even knowing she'd run off... He was able to admit that the tracks were barely visible in the low light in the first place, but her injuries could've been prevented.

Of course, she was still the one who ran off, and why that had been remained to be seen.

Roland breathed out and looked to the canopy above. He wanted to see the stars again. And he would shortly. He wondered if after that egg had hatched another streak would dash through the sky and stroke the everlasting black with green. He wouldn't see it here, definitely not. First a white one, and then blue, and now probably green...

He hadn't seen an egg for the first one. It must've hatched without him. Those eggs always exploded as soon as he got too close. Something to do with that time magic he had probably. It wasn't out of the question that they could hatch by themselves, though, without interference. How he interfered was unknown to him. He didn't feel any mana at all.

When had the egg been created? Drevon had something to do with them, that he was certain of. Was Drevon the one bringing them around? He wasn't sure how it worked, but that felt likely. Just when had Drevon summoned the first one, though?

The only time he could think of was when the purple dragon went out for that flight across the sea, all the stress from Seth's actions churning in his mind. Maybe he'd snapped out there, too, when nobody was around. The darkness must've plagued him. It was probably what was leading him around to find the places for these eggs, too.

Harper's words about the five eaters... Were these what he spoke of, those monstrous beasts that siphoned the elements and brought with them utter destruction?

It was only a silly fairy tale. Magic made anything seem possible, but not this. Then again, the Destroyer had existed once, a colossal beast summoned by the late Dark Master that roamed across the Dragon Realms to complete the Ring of Fire. It tore the world apart, only for the planet to be sealed back together by Spyro. He guessed nothing was impossible. Only improbable.

He hoped that wasn't the case, that all life would be devoured by a plague ushered in by these wyverns. Something about all this, however, felt strangely likely. He'd _seen_ wyverns in their eggs. And all of them looked as if they were designed after an element. White, blue, and green. Wind, ice, and earth respectively. Would there be one to play the role of fire and another for electricity as well?

This growing catastrophe was why Roland knew he had to find Drevon and break his mind free of the parasite before it was too late. He was wasting time here, waiting for a friend to awaken from her slumber. But he wouldn't leave her. He knew that he grew too close to people too quickly, but he cared about what was happening to her. He had a bit of an affinity for people struggling through things in their lives. It was his natural will to always try his best to be helpful at work there.

Trying to rush after Drevon wouldn't result in success anyhow. The purple dragon was much faster than him, and Roland had no idea where he was going next. He needed clues first, rumours from the denizens of the Dragon Realms, recent sightings of the dragon. For all Roland knew, he could be heading in the wrong direction now.

Roland detested that. Worse than having no answers was feeling as though he was getting further and further away from them. He rolled onto his other side, facing away from the campfire, and groaned quietly to himself.

Fluffy stared down at him, curious yellow eyes that always wondered how he was feeling. Dreadwings seemed highly in tune with the emotions of others. Roland wondered if Fluffy knew what he was thinking. Probably not, though. He could probably only sense the disturbance, not what it was exactly. He just wished he could talk properly to Fluffy and gain the response he so hopelessly craved.

Roland rolled to his feet and stretched his muscles. He needed to go somewhere to calm himself. This lack of answers angered him, and he didn't want to be around the others in such a mood.

"Where are you off to?" Harper peered up at him. Roland sighed.

"I'm just getting a drink. Give me a second."

Harper shifted his attention back to Tris and left him alone. Roland paced off, Fluffy eagerly following behind.

The chill curled and clawed around his scales when he left the campfire's warm grasp, and he was tempted for a second to turn around. He needed a moment to himself, though. Regarding the cold, however, Roland wondered if he would see snow when they came out the other side. He'd never seen any in real life before. He'd always wanted to partake in a snowball fight. That sounded like a lot of fun...

Ah, silly, mindless thoughts. He wished he could've had more, wished he wasn't so fixated on the problems he was facing and the stress gathering in his mind. That snowball fight would get his brain off things. Maybe when they were out of the forest, he could peg a ball of it at Myrtle. Her reaction would be priceless. A thin, lanky dragon trying to take on somebody with probably three times the muscle mass than them. He smirked at the thought, even at getting totally thrashed by his friend.

Roland stopped in front of the stream he'd bathed in earlier. Fluffy fell onto his stomach beside the red dragon. Roland bent down, propped up his front paw and cupped his chin. He looked at the large, lustrous fungi situated along the edge of the Edwin's artery, and tapped one idly with his other paw. It lost its lustre and dimmed to a dark grey. He puzzled about why that happened again, over the explanation given to him. What did the forest find familiar about the critters and monsters of this forest in particular? It was probably something to do with different skin or hairs, if he had to take a guess.

But that was what he hated. Guessing. He wanted to _know_. These guessing games weren't getting him anywhere.

Roland studied his rippling reflection and growled. He whacked the surface of the water and turned away. A quizzical Fluffy leaned down and peered into Roland's eyes.

Roland grumbled and averted his gaze. "You're just another one of my questions. Just another thing stressing me out..."

Roland hated the words as soon as they left his mouth. He expected the dreadwing to grow mad, but it seemed as though he was able to comprehend the dragon's plight.

"Y-you aren't bad by any means," Roland added. "I just wish you could talk to me. I really, _really_ do. I wouldn't be feeling tired then... I'm just so tired of everything, Fluffy. I don't want to feel like this around the others. They'd get sick of me if I acted like this around them."

Fluffy rubbed his face against Roland's cheek. It forced a tiny smile out of him.

"You're the ugliest, scariest thing I've ever seen, but you're also absolutely adorable." He chuckled. And after those died away, he exhaled. "You've been really good to me. It's good to know you care, Fluffy. And I bet you wish you could talk to me as well."

The dreadwing closed his eyes and relaxed his hairy body. He seemed content with that response.

Roland shrugged. "Honestly, it's almost as if you've gotten smarter as we've travelled together. Back when we met at the spring, you only responded to key words. Now you seem to listen to every word I say. You're a very strange dog... but you're a good dog nonetheless. I care about you, too."

Just like Fluffy, Roland rubbed his head against his oversized dog, careful not to prod his face with his horns. Fluffy adored the gesture.

"You know I'd never get sick of you, right, Roly?"

He whipped his head around to find Myrtle standing right behind him. Obviously she'd followed him and been listening the entire time. That was exactly like her to be around wanting to cheer people up. His troubles back at camp would've been easy to detect. He wasn't good at hiding them, he knew. He should've been better at it.

"Eavesdropping, Myrtle... That's rude." He laughed shortly. Myrtle sat on his other side.

"Fair's fair. You listened to me back at the Eldertree."

She had a point. Just this time, then. It was okay. But she really didn't need to know any of this stuff, about how he was feeling. He'd get through it. He'd just stomach all his stress and solve all the questions he had later. He'd find those answers. A bit of optimism went a long way.

Myrtle frowned, sniffing the air. "Is it just me... or do you smell better? Your big, ugly dog does, too."

"I had a bath before we ran after Tris," he said. "I thought you might all be sick of the stink, so I... Well, I kinda stole Harper's soap."

"Wow, petty thievery." She snorted. "I expected better from you, Roland. You should be _ashamed_."

"My guilt is immeasurable."

"Okay, okay, whatever. Back to what I said before, do you really think I'd ever get sick of you?"

Roland shrugged. "I mean, that's up to you. I'm annoying sometimes, I guess."

"Yeah, especially when you're mopin' around, all sad-like." The tip of her wing brushed along his back. "You know you can talk, right? You don't have to sit in silence. I will listen to you and I'll try my bloody best to help out."

"Eh, my problems aren't _that_ bad. Don't worry about me, Myrtle. It's not worth worrying about." They really weren't, not to him. They weren't worth the time of the others. What could they do to help anyway? They had the exact same questions as him.

"Me, personally? I think it's worth it. It's worth worryin' about because I fuckin' care about how you're feelin'."

"Yeah, but it's not a big deal," he argued. "I'm just feeling a little stressed out."

"Eh... I guess we're all a bit stressed," she replied. She glanced behind her quickly to make sure nobody was listening in on their conversation. "I'm super worried about Drevon, especially... If I knew where he was, I'd drop all my plans and head straight there to find him. And I'm guessin' you feel the same way, too."

He nodded. "Yup. Ashlyn feels that way as well."

"What would she have to gain from coming with us?" Myrtle questioned. "Why would she want to follow you? I thought once we got to Warfang, that was where she would stop."

He didn't want the ice dragoness to feel that way about him, as though her only option was to help him, but his attempts to veer her off that path were fruitless. "She feels like she owes me a debt after everything that's happened. She's welcome to help, but she shouldn't feel forced to. I wouldn't force her to. That's not right. Especially when the stakes are so high..."

"I dunno about you, Roland, but... I don't think showing Drevon the murderer of his little sister is a good idea."

Oh, definitely not. Drevon wouldn't take well to that at all, not in his current state. That emotional agony was where the thread holding Drevon together snapped. "I agree. I guess if she does want to follow me, though, she's just gonna have to stay out of sight. Knowing her, she can. Once I can get Drevon to calm down again, we can... talk things out a bit."

"Do you really expect things to be that easy?" Once again, she was right. "I'm sorry, all that just sounds a little optimistic to me..."

"...Yeah." But optimism was his middle name. It was better than expecting everything to go poorly. He would find his answers. He would find Drevon. He was just sick of not being able to grasp at them right now. "But... if I did it once, I can do it again. He'd listen to me. He... He wouldn't wanna hurt me. I just need to get him in a place where it's easy to listen to me. He couldn't hear me back in Firemore or inside the Eldertree..."

"I... I guess we'll see what happens, then. You do have the best shot at gettin' him back. I trust you, Roland. We just need to find him first."

"Yeah, which is the hard part." Roland returned his gaze to the reflection. Back at square one again. "He could be _anywhere_ right now. He might not even be in the Dragon Realms."

He had to hope fortune would be in his favour again, though. That was all he could do. Rely on hope.

"All we can do is keep goin'," Myrtle uttered. "Stick together. Hope we can find him. In fact, I think he may still be in the Dragon Realms."

"What makes you think that?" Roland asked.

Myrtle itched at her chin. "Well, all those eggs you've been seeing... They've all been here, in the Dragon Realms. This place is known as the _magic hub_ of the world, because of our high population of dragons above everythin', and those wyverns are supposedly connected to the elements. Wouldn't be too far-fetched to say those other eggs are somewhere in the Dragon Realms, too. Which... actually gives me an idea."

Roland cocked his head. That growing, confident smile on her face made his heart flutter with anticipation.

"It's gonna be hard to find a dragon on the run. But those eggs have to come from _something._ I doubt Drevon is summoning babies out of thin air. Maybe those eggs are attached to something, like those old wyvern ruins..."

"The blue egg was just kind of sitting in the middle of a cave near the ocean," he said. "But maybe you are on to something. I bet the library of Warfang is holding some of the answers we seek."

"Now we're talkin'." The small victory on Myrtle's face made Roland chuckle. "An actual _plan_. I'm not a big fan of readin' books, but I'll do it if it means we have any shot at getting Drevvy back. We'll see if we can find somethin' related to these wyverns and maybe, with a bit of luck, we'll be able to meet Drevon there before the next egg comes."

Finally, a good conclusion to come to. Maybe he didn't have his answers yet, but once they got to Warfang he would. If he had to be a little more patient, he could be. The sweet golden light of triumph waiting for him at the end of the stressful spiral he'd descended into was growing closer by the moment. He couldn't wait to finally reach it. It would all be worth it in the end.

"So far, we've been at a good pace," Myrtle said. "Drevon probably has to figure out where to go as well. Considerin' your big fluffy friend here has been the one to point out the wyverns to you twice, maybe we actually have the advantage."

"You're a genius, Myrtle." He couldn't help expressing it. A solid plan was finally in place. Sure, the end to their means was blurred, but this was far better than sulking over his lack of answers. It'd cheered him up after so many days of thinking and cursing under his breath.

"I wouldn't say _genius_ ," she said, "but I'm definitely smarter than you, no doubt about that at all."

"I take it back. I hate you."

She clapped him on the back with her wing, a grin on her face. She opened her maw to say something as she withdrew her wing, but she recoiled in pain. Puzzled, Roland almost asked what was wrong, and then he remembered the crystallisation. He lost that smirk when he looked at her wings, as if polished to the point of reflecting light. It had been barely noticeable before and it still was now, even with all the spirit gems she'd been taking from him, but it looked worse than when he'd examined it earlier. It was spreading from the rim of her wing and gathering at the edges of the membrane.

Myrtle didn't look at him. Roland was transparent; he knew she could tell what he was thinking about.

"I know you've been taking the gems from my satchel," Roland explained. "Your wings aren't looking good, Myrtle."

"Yeah, yeah, I know..." She shrugged. "I'm just... I was desperate. I didn't have many on me and I sorta already used them all, and then I... I'm sorry, Roland. I'm tryin' to stop, I just... _can't_ do it."

He felt pity and anxiety for her. This addiction was going to keep getting worse if she kept going on and he knew she was aware of that. Like the mole back in Midrun said, the crystallisation could progress to the point where the wings needed amputation, and Roland couldn't ever imagine a dragon being without them. Where a dragon's pride was in their horns, a dragon's soul was in the sky.

"Can't you stop for a little while? At least until the crystallisation clears up?" Roland cocked his head. Myrtle didn't have a response. But from the lack of sound, Roland had a feeling it was a plain, simple 'no.'

Roland didn't even mind she was taking them from his satchel. If she needed something to get through the day every now and then, that was okay with him. But this had gone too far too quickly. She was at risk of really hurting herself.

"We _need_ those spirit gems, Myrtle," he told her. "I know the others have some, but we need as many as we can get our paws on. I'm sorry, but we can't waste them on you..."

"I know, I just... I get stressed out and mad at myself if I don't have my daily fix, a-and I'm afraid I'll..." Myrtle sighed. Roland cocked his head.

"What are you afraid of?"

"D-don't worry." She smiled. Once again, hiding behind that wall of reassurance. "It's okay, I will... I _am_ trying my best to quit it. I know it's awful, I–"

"Myrtle, I'm–"

"Don't worry," she repeated. She got up and brushed off her chest. "I'll fix it up. Anyway, we should get back."

He opened his mouth to speak to her, but she'd already started walking back. His optimism told him she would try to do something about it. However, if he was being realistic, she was going to keep at it. It didn't feel like there was much he could do, other than catch her red-pawed or hide his satchel from her. He didn't know if she had the guts to take from anyone else. Maybe she knew he wouldn't react so negatively. After that small victory of formulating a plan, he was back to grumbling about his lack of information and being unable to help in any way.

Fluffy stood up behind him and poked Roland's tail with his wing. Roland nodded, knowing he had to get a move on. He'd spent way too long out for 'just a drink.' The others were probably wondering about him.

He got back to camp, and after answering the questions he'd foreseen with lies and noticing Tris still hadn't awoken, he dozed off huddled up next to Fluffy, making sure he put his satchel underneath the dreadwing where nobody would be able to touch it.

* * *

A new day came forth. Roland, hidden beneath his huge fluffy pillow, cracked his eyes open and poked the underside of the dreadwing. Fluffy rolled over and allowed Roland to get free. The red dragon inhaled deeply and was still pleasantly surprised to find the dreadwing didn't stink of ancient fish and damp hound. Only a good scrub and the stench no longer overpowered his nostrils.

He could even smell past that. A trace of breakfast in the air, the scent of simmering piggle. A metal dish atop a fire away from their camp seethed and spat with animal fat. In front of it stood Tris, who'd distanced herself from him and the others, probably so she wouldn't wake them up with the sounds of cooking.

None of the others had gotten up yet, and after looking at his pocket watch, he found the tiny hands only pointing at the six. Usually they left by seven. What was she doing up at this time cooking breakfast? Had she gone out hunting by herself?

She didn't notice him as he paced over, Fluffy following right behind; her eyes were glued to the meat. She looked in thought. Roland, desiring a response, cleared his throat.

Tris whirled around in an instant, wide-eyed. She calmed, though, when she noticed who it was. "Gee, you scared me. I wasn't expecting you all to wake up for another thirty minutes yet..."

"Sorry." A sheepish grin crossed his muzzle. "I woke up and saw you were making breakfast already. Did you go out hunting by yourself?"

"There was a piggle in the clearing actually, just a ways from our camp."

She averted her eyes and focused on the cuts of meat. Along with the meat were freshly picked mushrooms from around the area. A pretty standard meal by now, but a hearty, enjoyable one nonetheless. The carcass of the piggle not in use rested beside her, eyes glassy, bleeding onto the ground.

"Um... How, uh... How did you sleep, Roland?" Tris asked. He hadn't heard her so awkward in conversation before. He pitied her, knowing full well what was going through that mind of hers.

"I slept fine. Fluffy makes a nice blanket." He paced towards the fire and took a seat on the leaves. The cuts lining her face stood out in the campfire's glow, new scales glistening and thin. They didn't seem pleasant to wear. They probably stung. "How are your legs?"

"They hurt," she said. "I'm glad we had spirit gems. I can only imagine what it would've been like without them..."

He winced at the thought. He imagined horrible agony. Not only that, but she wouldn't be able to carry herself through the forest. They'd probably have to support her. He was glad they'd gathered many before their journey into the forest.

"And it could've been a whole lot worse, too," she continued. "If you guys had found me any later..."

They both didn't want to say the last part. Roland didn't want to think about it.

"Why did you run into the darkness?" he questioned. "You heard the thumping, saw all the eyes... That's practically suicide, Tris."

She inclined her head. "Yeah, I-I was aware. I'll... I'll explain when the others come over. I don't want to have to say it twice."

He understood. And so he waited for the others to awaken, a wall of silence among them. Tris flipped the fatty cuts over in the dish and then bent down, her jaw resting on her paws. She was dreading what was to come, and in a way, Roland was as well. Harper had kept his opinions to himself, but he didn't think the cheetah would be cheerful either way. It had been mere days since Harper had made an apology and pushed himself to treat Tris more like a person. Would he see this as a reason to take back what he'd said and go back to what he'd been doing? Would he do worse?

Roland realised he'd been thinking a lot about all the bad things Harper could do. But the red dragon was growing scared of him. Harper seemed a calm, intelligent individual, a good ally to have for sure, but what was beneath that? What emotions stirred underneath that nonchalant expression?

It was better to stay positive, though. Maybe Harper would see why she ran off and be able to understand... He really did hope so. Tension already hung like a hundred needles over their heads, and he didn't want another addition to that number.

"Oh, yeah." Tris stared through Roland to the dreadwing. She patted the mound of raw flesh beside her. "This is for you, Fluffy. I know you like your meat raw, so..."

Fluffy didn't listen any further. He leaped right over the fire and Tris' head and snatched the piggle up in his jaws. Roland didn't see him chew; the entire carcass was consumed in a single swallow, shredded and torn by the many fangs in his throat. A second later, Fluffy jumped back and set himself down behind the red dragon again.

"I... I guess he enjoyed that." Tris snickered quietly. "He deserves it. I couldn't really see all that well, but I know he helped out a lot yesterday. That scream must've decided the fight..."

If not for Fluffy, Roland wasn't sure they could've fought off that troll. That scream provided Harper with the ideal moment to lash out at their fearsome foe. Its stomach had been its weakness and that had been nigh impossible to get to without creating a window of opportunity. Only Fluffy's blast of terror had been able to win them that fight.

If not for Fluffy, Roland wasn't sure he himself would have been sitting around the campfire.

He owed a lot to that damn dreadwing now...

He looked up when he heard the grass rustle beneath paws. Myrtle and Ashlyn arrived together. They both eyed Tris – the yellow dragoness returned their looks – and seated themselves around the fire with a short greeting. Roland looked around for Harper and found he was awake. His back was turned and he was leaned against the tree, his arms folded as they usually were. Was he coming or not? Maybe he was thinking.

Roland didn't like the look on his face...

He shuffled his feet. Somebody would've spoken by now. Myrtle would've whipped out some hilarious quip, Tris would've mentioned the elements, or Ashlyn would've said something neat about the Everlost Forest. Maybe they were waiting for Harper to join them so they could speak.

Myrtle glanced at them all and didn't seem to be able to take much of the quiet, though. "It, uh... smells good, heh."

"Thanks," Tris muttered back. She gazed at Ashlyn, lifting the dish off the campfire by its handle. "Could you, um... put the fire out, Ash?"

"S-sure." The ice dragoness parted her maw. The fire fizzled, banished by the thin stream of slush that came from her throat. Tris set the piggle cuts aside to cool and exhaled.

But her eyes lit up a moment later. A tiny smile spread across her thin muzzle.

"Hey, you're getting better at it." She sat up, taller and straighter. "That's a better ice stream than yesterday."

"I-I was practising a little last night," Ashlyn said, a paw rubbing the area between her horn and the little spine-like spikes that made a dotted line along her skull, all the way to her forehead. "It's... It's nothing compared to what you can do, though..."

"Oh, don't be so modest. That was good! You learn faster than most people your age." Tris' gaze met Myrtle's. "And how's your magic been going?"

"I've still got some work to do, but after those tips you gave me on focusin' my magic better, pretty well, actually. I won't demonstrate here for fear of hittin' poor Roly next to me. Although, that _would_ be pretty funny..."

Roland pulled back a claw and flicked Myrtle, glaring, her only response a guiltless shrug and a hurriedly hidden smile. No matter if Myrtle was threatening him with another column of stone, though; he was glad to hear conversation.

"Where's Harper gone?" Tris asked. Roland realised the cheetah had disappeared while they were talking.

"He said he was going to take a walk. He wanted to clear his head," Ashlyn replied. "I don't know when he's getting back. He told me to just wait a while."

"And when I made breakfast early to apologise, too..." Tris slumped back down. Roland knew the effort that went into making a meal like this. Cutting up that small creature was messy work and scouring the glowing mushrooms for edible fungi was tedious and time-consuming. It would've been totally wasted if not for him and the others. "Now it'll be cold and soggy when he gets back... Oh well. I guess we'll have to eat without him."

She took the metal dish from beside her and placed it in the centre of their circle, balanced atop the smoky, sopping wood. Generally they ate together – it was something Roland wasn't quite used to, having manners at the table... or, well, the figurative one.

"What do we do while we wait for Harper?" Myrtle spoke with her mouth full. Clearly she hadn't learned anything yet. Not that Roland really cared.

"Well..." Tris sighed. She hadn't taken a bite off her cut yet. Seemed she wasn't hungry. "If Harper isn't going to be here for a while, I guess... I guess I should probably explain myself."

"We can wait for him to come back if you want," Roland said. "You said yourself that you didn't want to say it twice, and that's understandable."

"I... I think it would be better if I talked to him by myself in all honesty." Tris shrugged. Roland cocked his head. "He's probably angry at me... and I don't want you guys to have to experience that. He's... He's not good when he's mad."

"Nobody's good when they're mad, but what do you mean?" Myrtle asked. "Is he aggressive? Does he... get physical? That doesn't seem like him."

"I... I don't want to talk about that." Tris shook her head. She pursed her lips and picked at the grass with her claws.

Roland looked the way Harper had disappeared from. An unsettling spike of apprehension stabbed at his gut. Myrtle and Ashlyn exchanged a glance. He knew they had felt it, too.

"W-well, um... W-why did you run into the darkness, then?" Ashlyn questioned.

Tris exhaled. "There... There was a gem bunny. I-I tried to catch it, but it ran off into the forest. I thought I would be fast enough to go in and get it, and get out quickly enough. I was wrong, obviously. My lightning arcs kept hitting the trees and I couldn't get a clear shot at it with my other magic..."

"Why did you want it?" Roland inquired. "I mean, I know I'm greedy as fuck, but carrying all those gems around would've just been extra weight we didn't need."

"I-I-I just... I wanted Harper to look at me..." she said. Her breath shook, the air of a soul wounded by neglect. "Look at me for something I didn't do wrong. I always fail in his eyes. I-I'm always doing something wrong. I... I wanted him to be proud of me for something. Just a proud smile. He always used to give those to Pride..."

Roland knew her troubles already, but it didn't hurt any less listening to them now. Tris' voice became more subdued with each passing moment.

"I was too confident. I th-thought I could do it. And then, after trying so many times to hit it with magic, I found a troll waiting for me. That's what was following us."

She averted her gaze from their group. She wiped a paw across her closed eyes.

"I was so _stupid_. I risked my life and all of yours, just for a bit of... a bit of f-fucking _pride_. I'm so sorry. I... I-I don't want you guys to hate me. I was stupid, a-and I–"

Tris stopped as Ashlyn's paw landed on her shoulder. The yellow dragoness looked up, shocked to see her blue friend smiling.

"W-what can I say?" Ashlyn shrugged. "It wouldn't be fair of me to just... _hate_ you. You know what I did, and you understood anyway. And I understand how you're feeling, too."

"Th-that was barely your fault, though," Tris countered. Ashlyn raised her shoulders again.

"I still played some part. If anything, just try to do better. That's... That's what Roland told me."

Roland nodded in agreement. She'd made a mistake. That was all. Better to focus on being better than mope under the weight of past actions.

"Nothin' really came of it anyway," Myrtle continued. "None of us are hurt, excluding you, of course. I'm... honestly just glad you're okay, Tris."

Tris managed a smirk at that comment. She blew a sigh through her nostrils, thankful her fears weren't reality. "Heh... It almost sounds like you care about me."

"I _do_ ," Myrtle reassured her. "You're kind, smart, funny, beautiful... You've been a damn good friend considerin' it hasn't even been that long. I don't think I've ever made a good friend so quick, and my last record was Roly..."

"I guess I'm just worse than you, Tris." Roland gave Tris a wink. She chuckled happily. "And I thought I was easy to get along with."

"You _are_ easy to get along with." The blue dragoness laughed.

"Yeah... I guess the only difference is Myrtle thinking I'm not hot..." He sneaked a sly look at Myrtle. She was confused, thinking for a few moments, before she finally caught the meaning. She clenched a fist. Roland saw those green wisps rise and curl around her paw. "Your empty threats don't scare me, dirt-breath."

"Oh, I see..." Myrtle hit the ground with a solid amount of force. Too bad Roland anticipated her predictable move and leaped out of the way. A rock pillar burst forth from where he was seated, though Roland could tell it wasn't nearly as powerful as the last one that had struck him. She was better at controlling it, too. He would've praised her if she hadn't jumped over the ashes and started chasing him through the clearing.

He was glad to hear Tris laughing, though, and even Ashlyn's snicker. Sure, maybe Ashlyn and Myrtle needed a bit of work, but it kind of did seem like they were starting to get there, and Roland realised it'd been through Tris. They'd found a common interest in her. She was lessening that divide, whether she knew it or not.

If anything, he could say, for the most part, they were all friends here. Friends made mistakes sometimes. But good friends forgave those mistakes. Perhaps with time Myrtle and Ashlyn could make up and mend the fracture splitting them apart. He sure hoped so. That'd make him so much happier. A problem finally solved...

For now, though, he had faith Tris would do fine with Harper. He was tempted to go along with her and help her out, but there was no doubt Tris would reject that assistance. If things went awry, he'd step in at least. He could deal with people tolerating each other, but being angered and saddened by another person was a different thing entirely. He wasn't going to let something like that slide. He had an urge to set things right.

His back legs were tugged out from beneath his body, and he fell stomach-first onto the grass, having forgotten very quickly why he was running in the first place. Before he could realise he was still attempting to scamper away from Myrtle, she was already on top of him, a paw forcing his neck to the ground. He could feel her mischievous smile and stare burning right through him.

Oh boy. He was definitely in for it now.

* * *

Tris had left with Harper ages ago. Little jolts of worry bolted up Roland's spine every time he looked in the direction she'd gone. A ruined but ornate stone archway where the path continued was where she'd disappeared, and it remained dark and undisturbed for what he felt was too long.

They hadn't gone too far, surely. And he was certain they would've been extra careful heading through the forest. He guessed they needed a lot of time to chat. It had been subtle, but things had been shaky for a long time.

Better not to stress about it right now, though. If anything happened between them, he could deal with it when they came back. He jumped off Fluffy's back and landed in a pile of crunchy leaves. The dreadwing was too busy relaxing to follow right now.

Roland adjusted his scarf, stretched out his tight bones, and thought to have a conversation with Ashlyn. It'd been a little while since they'd last spoken one on one, and he enjoyed the chats they had every now and then... The ones not about the collapse of Firemore anyway.

She lay on her back, front paws folded over her chest, gaze fixed on the high leaves and critters excitedly hopping about the tangled vines and twigs. Roland recognised them from the Eldertree, with their pointed ears and snatching claws, grabbing at spiders and insects walking too far from their homes. He faced the danger of straying too far from the path, but he guessed the other animals did also.

Roland walked over, past Myrtle who had her back to a tree, eyes glued to her wing she'd folded over her torso. She was picking at the crystallised scales; Roland thought to tell her not to do that, but as she caught his gaze she let go of her wing and looked elsewhere. Seemed she caught the memo.

He stopped at Ashlyn's side. She acknowledged he was there with a slight nod.

"Tired of waiting yet?" he asked with a smile, inviting a conversation.

Ashlyn tittered. "Ha, just a bit. They say patience is a virtue, though."

"If there's one thing I remember from my childhood, it's my mum saying that _over and over_." Those memories... Some of the only fond ones he had left from back then. "I was a pretty impatient child. I always had to be doing something _exciting_. And then I started writing. It taught me patience. You can't rush good writing."

"I'd still love to read some of that some day. A-after all this is over, I mean..." She shrugged, sat silent for a few seconds, and then opened her mouth again. "Uh, your mother... H-how was she?"

"Hard-working, funny, and above all, kind," he said. "She was loving. We used to hang out a lot. She passed away a long time ago, though. She, uh... wasn't doing so well in the mental health department."

"O-oh. I'm so–"

"Don't worry about it. It's been a while and I don't think about it much anymore. I'm here to live in the present." He put a claw to his mouth. "Though I always did wonder what happened to my dad. After I ran from home, I never saw him again, not at my old house, nowhere. I... assume he did the same thing as her."

"Geez... That's really rough. But you're right, better to live in the present." She shifted in the grass, eyes on the tops of the canopy where the animals preyed on bugs. "I wish I had paper with me. I'd like to sketch one of those animals. I've seen people take them in as pets before, actually. They're cute... i-if you domesticate them, of course. They're a little aggressive in the wild."

"Oh?" He hadn't seen a creature so unique taken in as a pet before. Dogs, a more feral, less sentient variety of the hounds part of the Great Twelve, were common, and he'd seen plenty of birds as well, especially hawks, but nothing quite like them. "What are they?"

"They're called Soc _e_ la _._ They're not native here; they came from Lingrad, where Tris used to live, and, as you know, where the war's happening. They usually live in the snow, but they've made themselves at home here, too. This place is full of bugs for them to eat. Usually they'd attack and eat snoweeds, which are a part of the frogweed family. The Socela actually drink their acid."

"You know all these random things about the world," he said with a low chuckle.

"I-I've been around a bit of the island once. Mum and I had a lot of time to just... talk about things." She sighed, but it wasn't one of sorrow. More like one of relishing, remembering the good times sprinkled amongst the horror. She gave her ring a quick glance. "We sailed past this place once on a ship from the Shattered Vale, and I always asked questions about it. Why it was so big, why it was all _glowy_... She used to tell me about how pretty this place was and about all the animals that lived here. I know a bit about the Dragon Realms in general, but she knew _tons_. I guess that comes with being a teacher, heh..."

"Teacher, eh?" He nodded. That was a good profession to be into around the Dragon Realms. "There's lots of money in that. I can respect it."

"Yeah... I guess that's kind of what attracted my dad in the first place..."

Roland recoiled a bit at the mention of him. A frown settled on his face. "Your dad's absolutely horrible. I don't even know how someone like that exists. Usually I can see the good in somebody, but... not him. There's nothing bright there at all. Even _my_ dad had good aspects. Granted, there wasn't much good..."

"It took me a while to accept that," Ashlyn answered. "I've given it a lot of thought over the course of our trip to Warfang. H-he's... not somebody I'd like to think about anymore. We won't be seeing him again. S-sorry, probably better not to mention him..."

"It's alright." He looked up, towards the stone arch. He was expecting nothing once again, but after a moment of staring, Tris appeared around the corner. He smiled slightly. "Oh, hey, Tris is back..."

And then he noticed the lack of Harper.

"But… where's Harper?" Ashlyn finished for him.

He didn't know. All he knew was that the cheetah hadn't come back with her, and he was certain it wasn't a good sign. Whatever was going through that feline's head was keeping him from being able to forgive Tris for what she'd done.

Roland anxiously clenched his paws as she approached, felt the strings of his nerves being pulled by his gut when he saw those reddened eyes.

It hadn't gone over well. That much was obvious now. His hope had been for nought. Despite his approach to life, always having faith things would turn out fine, he knew, deep down, that Harper wouldn't accept this. Not so soon after he'd apologised. Those brief moments of improvement felt so far away.

Myrtle came out from her spot behind the tree and joined Roland by his side. Ashlyn hopped to her feet, silenced by what she knew had transpired. Fluffy stopped behind Roland; the dreadwing's head was tilted, his sense and curiosity for emotion having kicked in.

Myrtle opened her mouth as she grew closer. The yellow dragoness didn't make eye contact.

"You okay?" Myrtle asked. Tris didn't answer the question.

"H-Harper will come back later. Give him time. He's just over at the Edwin…"

She stormed past, pretending she was okay. Even she knew she was transparent, though, he could tell.

"Hang on, Tris." Myrtle tried to go after her, a paw outstretched. "What hap–"

"Leave it!" she snapped and whirled around. Myrtle drew her paw away. Aghast, Roland didn't move an inch. Tris inhaled sharply, lowered her eyes and muzzle, and trotted away. She stopped where Myrtle had been behind the tree and sat down. She buried her face in her paws and shook in uncontrollable emotion.

Just how bad had their argument been to push Tris this far over the edge? He didn't want to see her like this. And Harper had no right to make that so. Sure, she'd made a terrible mistake… but the only reason she'd made that error was because of her treatment. Maybe if he'd been a better father…

Roland was starting to lose his tolerance for this cheetah. A good father would be able to forgive his child. It barely even seemed like he loved her sometimes... She was more like an object, a thing to look at and admire in everyone's eyes, but neglected in Harper's own. Some sort of glorified, abused trophy.

The red dragon stood taller. He had to take this into his own paws. He knew where the cheetah was. He had to make his move and stop it.

"I need you two to help her out," he told the pair of girls. He turned towards the stone arch, narrowing his gaze. "I'm gonna go find Harper."

Ashlyn put a paw up. "Wait, Roland. I-I'll help Tris, but I'm not sure if talking to Harper is a good idea. I-I'm sort of scared of him. He doesn't seem… stable. We should just wait for him to come back and leave him alone."

"I'm aware." But he needed to do this. He couldn't wait for this to blow over. He couldn't leave a friend in the shadows like that. He couldn't let Harper keep on going with this bullshit. "Harper listened to me before, though. If he listened once, he just might again…"

Ashlyn sighed and didn't say anything more.

In spite of her worries and stress, Myrtle gave a confident nod. She believed in him, and so did he. He could fix this. "Just be careful, Roly. And I think you should leave the dreadwing here. Tris told us about the whole… incident involvin' Harper's son. I don't think Harper should be around it..."

"Stay, Fluffy," Roland commanded the dreadwing. Fluffy followed orders, but the fear etched across his features didn't make Roland feel good about leaving him there. That apprehensive look… It was like Fluffy knew something would go astray. He just couldn't word it.

No time to think about it, however. The red dragon turned and jogged towards the path. He had a friend to help. He had a family to repair.

* * *

The roaring water was what caught him off-guard at first. It smashed against the rocks, a torrent of liquid pummels. It was like a war inside there, land against sea, elements clashing together. Through the vines and over the cliff's edge was the ravine brewing with the power of nature, simply known as the Edwin. The name didn't do its might any justice.

Rivers and streams that wound up here dropped off the side in thick waterfalls, into the heart of the Edwin, like lifeblood circulating through the body of Everlost. Dotted along the cliff and growing between small cracks in the gravel path before him were more of the blue fungi. He would've expected the ones in front of him to be lit up, but many had dimmed, touched recently by Harper and Tristana's feet.

Roland grasped the rock jutting out of the edge of the cliff and held himself still. In spite of his wings, he still didn't fancy falling over the side. Being ripped apart at the seams in the rushing sea of stalagmites, by nature itself, wasn't a thought he relished in.

He hadn't really wanted to go near this place. But where the path deviated into two thinner roads, he had no choice but to follow the sign leading to it. Harper was somewhere along this cliff. He'd have to keep his eyes peeled for the yellow cheetah, whose natural camouflage would make him a challenge to spot if he was in the bushes somewhere.

Roland paced along the cliff, his golden tail blade held high just in case there were monsters lying in wait. He wasn't sure the blunt, curved instrument would prove useful in an actual battle - not like he'd prove much use in a fight by himself anyway – but it was better to be cautious and have it at the ready for a blunt attack than not.

A weird feeling crawled up his stomach, apprehensive in nature. His instincts were trying to tell him something. Like they expected combat. With Harper? He wasn't so sure. Harper wasn't like that. It could've been a monster, but along the path following the mushrooms, he was certain he wasn't in any real danger.

Ahead of him was an area sealed by loose vines, draped over a timber arch like makeshift curtains. He grasped at them and pulled them apart. The road ended suddenly in a tiny opening in the woods. Lifechains hung from rope-like coils of vine, illuminating a small camping ground. Logs were sawed and placed around the clearing to create long seats, and a circle of chalky white stones perfect for a fire pit was nestled in the centre of it all. The view behind it was impressive, the full expanse of the Edwin stretching into the dark beyond. There was a singular stump off to the right that didn't really seem to fit in.

And that was where the cheetah was.

Roland saw Harper staring deep into the depths of the Edwin, a small rectangular bottle clasped in his paw. He raised it to his muzzle, took a huge gulp, and then dropped it. The watery amber stored within leaked from the open cap, liquid death absorbed by the grass. Roland may have been starting to get sick of the cheetah's actions, but his worry for him was still instantaneous.

And now he was worried for himself, too. Was Harper stable enough to talk to? Would he even listen? What if he wasn't thinking and…

No, Roland needed to do this now. Now or never. Harper needed to listen _now_. Roland closed his eyes and breathed his fears away.

He could do this. He knew he could. He _had_ to.

"Harper..." his voice came, firm.

The cheetah didn't acknowledge his presence. Somehow, Roland was sure Harper knew he was there, though, in spite of his drunken state.

"What did you do, Harper?" Roland asked. "What did you _say_ to her? I've never seen her so upset..."

Harper remained quiet and still. The silence was unnerving. Roland felt the fear gathering his throat again.

"Why are you like this to her? The only reason she went out there was so she could make you proud. She just wanted a smile."

No response.

Roland clenched his fist. This wasn't working. He felt his anger bubbling up, his impatience rising.

"What's wrong with you?" Roland growled. "Did you even hear her out?"

Roland thought he saw a quiver of movement. It wasn't enough for him. He needed an answer. He was going to get it. He wasn't ignoring the calling of an actual response.

"Do you even love her?"

Harper jolted out of his seat, his fur standing on end. He whipped around and drew his pistol, pulling the hammer. It clicked, a fiery shot primed.

It took Roland a while to realise it was trained on him.

"Why should I listen to _you_?" the cheetah snapped. Roland took a hasty step back. "Don't move!"

Roland shivered. He'd gone too far. He should've left when he had the chance. Now he was staring death in the face.

"H-Harper..." He slowly shook his head. "P-p-put the gun down. Y-you don't want to–"

"Why not?!" Harper yelled, thrusting the firearm forward. Those glossy, wet eyes stared at Roland with what he assumed was hatred. "Why don't I want to?"

"Y-you're not thinking straight... P-please put... put it down. We can talk about this..."

"No." Harper slowly moved forward. "You're all involved. This has been a long time coming."

The red dragon's breath quivered. He kept shaking his head. Frightened tears formed. "I-involved in what?"

"His death. My son. Pride. You of all people should _know_."

No, he had nothing to do with that! How could anybody think that!?

It didn't matter that it was unreasonable. Harper didn't care.

"I... I-I don't know what you're talking about! How did I–"

"All the _secrecy_ ," Harper said. "The dreadwing. Both related to the purple dragon. I _know_ they are. And I know you had something to do with this."

"I-I... no, I didn't–"

The barrel met his skull, and he stopped. Sharp steel shoved against his head, a fiery fate awaiting within. He felt his breath catch. Tears coursed down his cheeks.

"The things you've been seeing, the wyverns you asked about, that... that damn _look_ on your face back in Midrun. I knew something was different about you. And I can't believe it's taken me this long to put two and two together. I've been travelling with an enemy this whole time."

"You don't understand!" Roland cried. "I know the purple dragon! He's my best friend! But I'm not trying to end the world! I don't know what's up with the dreadwing! I didn't _kill_ your _son_!"

But nothing was of use. Stubborn and his mind corrupted with brew, Harper didn't listen.

"Give me one good reason why I should believe you, Roland. Just _one_."

"Harper! Please! I-I'll tell you everything I know, just… just put it down!"

Harper sighed. "And have you lie to me?"

"I-I'll…" There was no point. The cheetah was too unstable, too _emotional_ to listen to the words of the truth.

And Roland felt as though it was all his fault. If he hadn't kept this from him…

There was nothing he could say. He had to do something. He had to run.

"One reas–"

Roland swiped at the pistol to snatch it from him before Harper could finish speaking, but knocked it from his grip and sent it flying to the side. The feline tried to grab at it, but Roland bashed his horned cranium into the cheetah's chest. Harper tripped over, unable to resist the blow in his drunken state; Roland turned around and sprinted with all his might. He barged through the vines.

But it didn't matter. His efforts were for nought.

Gunfire made Roland's ears hum. Seething agony burst through his stomach. Hot lead boiled. Scales shattered and flesh torn, blood spilled from his gut. And then the bullet made its exit through his side, smacking against a tree with a bang. He tripped with a gasp, his paw fixed to his stomach.

He shook and sobbed in pain; every breath was more fiery than the last, every heave was one tortured throb after another. He felt fluid in his throat. He wasn't sure if it was vomit or blood.

He tried and tried to get away, but it was too much. The scarlet-stained floor was like blades to his wound, rubbing against dirt and grass. He stopped at the edge of the cliff, shivering, dying.

Harper halted at his side and looked down upon him. Roland peered up with tear-stained eyes.

"H-H-Harp–"

"Save it for the Ancestors."

The hammer clicked back. Roland shut his eyes tight, his sobs echoing across the Edwin.

A scream pierced Roland's earholes. Harper staggered backwards with his paws clasped over his head. Fluffy emerged from the corner, flapping furiously, screeching continuously, blasting the cheetah with wave after wave of paralysing fear. Harper groaned, then roared at the sensation drilling through his head.

Roland looked up at his saviour; his vision was fogged, his mind starting to give way, but he managed to utter a low, bloody thank you. Fluffy would help him. Fluffy would stop this.

Then, another gunshot. Blood flew through the air and Fluffy screamed again. He veered to the left and fell from the sky, landing with a thud beside Roland. Panicking, Roland pressed crimson paws against his companion. The dreadwing struggled to his feet, only to fall over again.

"N-n-no, F-Fluffy… G-get up. Please…"

There was no further response.

Roland spluttered against the dreadwing's hide. How had Harper broken through the fear? How had he…

Was Fluffy...?

Warm tears spilled down his face like the blood on his side. "F-Fluffy… No…"

"ROLAND!" Ashlyn's familiar tone screamed. Paws rushed around the corner. Ashlyn came first, followed swiftly by the others.

He couldn't turn to face them. He was too weak to tell them to run from the monster of Everlost, from the monster he himself had created. All this time lying dormant inside. That was where the monsters really were, within them all. Those had to be the creatures people spoke of. The forest was merely the spark to set them off.

"Harper, stop!" Tris yelled. Even his daughter's voice was useless.

Another bullet, but Roland managed to catch the sound of the earth shifting. The third shot collided with Myrtle's earth pillar.

And then, with the force of a Guardian, a bolt of powerful lightning shot across the air, straight into the chest of the cheetah. There was a groan, crackling power. And then everything started going quiet.

His vision fading, he closed his tearful eyes. All he remembered after that was the feeling of falling, and one last faint scream of his name.

* * *

"Hang on, Roland. It'll be alright. I trust in the Ancestors to keep you well."

He didn't recognise that voice. He peeled his groggy eyelids but could barely see anything. It was all black and gloomy.

He felt… wet. And cold. And in pain. Why was everything soaked? Where was he? Why did it all hurt so much? He couldn't feel anything else. Just stabbing, stabbing, _stabbing_ …

"Just close your eyes, Roly." That voice he knew, clearly Myrtle. He breathed a shaky sigh at her tone. "You're hurt real bad. Close your eyes and sleep. We'll fix you up."

What was _we_? His friends, but... who was the other one?

He listened, though. He trusted her. He shut his eyes and let unconsciousness take him away again.


End file.
